#I didn’t realize i had a setting on that hid my posts from searches lol

[ghostlykidplaidbanana]

He traveled to some random dimension by accident but is vibing nonetheless idk

[orangedodge]

@dannybagpipesarecalling​ replied to your text post:

I didn't realize those were Destiny's diaries either. If you would be so kind, can you explain how Emma knows? Unfortunately I haven't read enough comics to know this backstory.

I am glad you asked about this, because it gives me an excuse to post about it while hopefully not sounding like a conspiracy blog. I've been slightly obsessed with this idea since Emma first turned up in House of X, so I'm rather excited that “maybe Destiny's Diaries still exist” isn't just my weird crack canon any longer.

Emma was, in short, the last person who can be established to have control over the whereabouts of the diaries. And as one of the top five telepaths in the world, who has expressly defended that secret from the likes of Exodus and Mr. Sinister, she is capable of preventing Professor X from just taking the information from her. So barring new retcons, if Moira has the diaries now, they had to have been obtained directly from Emma.

That's not enough to say that she turned them over to Moira specifically. She could have given them to Charles or Er—okay, no, she wouldn't give them to Charles. There could be a circumstance where she'd trust them to Erik though. But in that contingency, I think there's enough context to support Emma knowing why they'd want them and for who. To be clear though, I would be less confident about making that assertion if Emma hadn't just opened the “Dr. Moira MacTaggert Memorial Public Hospital” expressly to freak out Charles and Erik, and if HoxPox hadn't already linked them by showing Moira to be worried about what Emma was up to.

(This got kind of long so I thought it'd be helpful to say the important part up front before spiraling down the continuity rabbit hole)

The origins and resulting chain of custody for Destiny's Diaries are as follows: One January, decades ago, Destiny began recording visions of the future in a series of diaries. Filling one book per month, she continued writing for thirteen months. This process was described as auto-writing, and Destiny herself did not have a complete memory of what she had written, nor did she understand the meaning of much of what she wrote.

Nonetheless, the July diary contained a recording of the events leading up to the defeat of Apocalypse, and another diary contained information on the life of Hope Summers, so they've been very relevant to the events of the modern era. It's not explicit yet that Krakoa's founding is also in the diaries, but because we know Destiny had at least one separate vision of Krakoa, and because Moira is interested in reading them, it seems fairly likely that whatever Moira, Charles, and Erik have been doing behind the scenes is also in there.

In the decades since Destiny authored them, most of these diaries were lost, except for five that Mystique kept hold of, and a sixth that Irene hid away herself. After Mystique killed 'Moira,' she sent her five diaries to Professor X, hoping that the temptation of using them would consume his life and lead him toward a ruinous fate. Destiny meanwhile had entrusted the sixth diary to Shadowcat (who Destiny met in 1936, while she was time traveling and having an affair with Moira's grandfather don't worry about it), who eventually became so freaked out by something she read in it that she vanished on a mission, let her friends believe her dead for weeks, and had herself deleted from Cerebro, while leaving the diary to Rogue for safekeeping while she was away.

(That last chain of events isn't incredibly important, I just think it becomes kind of lol in light of current canon)

Rogue went on to take that diary and the research that had been done on it to Storm. Storm and Rogue then formed a splinter team of X-Men, to journey the world searching for the lost diaries, believing Professor X could not be trusted. Along the way a seventh book turned up with a treasure hunter named Vargas (don't worry about him), and an eighth was found by Gateway and given to Rogue in a dream. Eventually Storm tried to get Phoenix to collect Professor X's diaries for her, but they discovered that they had already been stolen (Shadowcat did it).

The rest of the diary hunt isn't really important, just that Kitty eventually ended up retrieving the full set, before she rejoined the X-Men, which only happened after Xavier had left Scott and Emma to run the school. This timeline is important for establishing that Xavier has never possessed the full set of diaries himself, and was not involved in collecting the lost books at any point, nor was he present at the time the diaries were brought to the school and fell under Emma's protection. This rules out the possibility that the set of diaries we've previously seen were somehow forged by Xavier.

Xavier would not return to the school until after losing his mutant powers, whereupon he departed for space on an adventure to another galaxy. He was unavailable, therefore, to have undertaken any telepathic shenanigans, so what happens next actually happened, and is not a psychic illusion. While Xavier was gone, Mr. Sinister recruited Exodus and Mystique, and began a campaign of hunting down precognitive psychics, time travelers, and any other sources of information on the future. Scott, Emma, and Kitty meanwhile predicted that they were going to be next, and came up with a bananas plan to keep the books safe.

X-Men volume 2 no. 203 by Mike Carey (Writer), Humberto Ramos (Penciler), Carlos Cuevas (Inker), Studio F’s Edgar Delgado (Colorist), Virtual Calligraphy’s Cory Petit (Letterer), Will Panzo (Assistant Editor), Nick Lowe (Editor), Joe Quesada (Editor in Chief), Dan Buckley (Publisher)

First they hid the diaries somewhere in parts unknown. Emma then altered the minds of “all of us” (everyone who lived at the mansion at that time) to perceive a bunch of decoy books as the real thing. She then erased Kitty's memory, and her own, so that no telepath would be able to extract the information by force, before they gave each other a series of post-hypnotic triggers so they could restore one another's memories if they ever needed the books again. When eventually Exodus attacked the school looking for the books, they restored their memories, and decided to send another team to the hidden location where they'd buried a mystery box. Emma gave this location to Sam and Bobby, who dug up the box, which was never opened, and which was destroyed by Gambit during a firefight with Sinister's forces before anyone could confirm its contents.

This was intended by author Mike Carey to be the end of Destiny's Diaries, a dropped plot from a previous creative run, that was vaguely useful at building up to the Messiah Complex crossover, but was a lot more trouble than it was worth to an author who was writing about the X-Men trying to avert a bad future. But there's a lot of room in the story he wrote for the diaries to have survived after all.

I think it's actually really suspicious that the box was accessible to Bobby and Sam at all. Why not drop it under a mountain? Why not bury it under the ocean? Why not keep it phased in a tree? And it's a big red box with a big red 'X' on it. I know the X-Men love their branding and all, but that's going pretty far.

No one actually opens the box before Gambit blows it up either. It could have contained more decoys, or nothing at all. 

And when talking among themselves, Emma and Kitty never actually say that they're sending the X-Men to retrieve the diaries. They say that they know where the diaries are, and then send the X-Men to a place where they've buried something. The intent of the author is clear, but there's room in the dialogue for a later writer to decide that this just was another plan to keep the books hidden.

So for the entire period of time between assembling the complete collection of thirteen diaries, and their seeming destruction, they are never unaccounted for. Only Emma and Kitty knew the full extent of what they did to hide them, and where they were hidden. If fakes were destroyed instead of the real thing, no one would have known.

We could just be in retcon territory, but I don't think so, because it's fine on its own without any direct changes to canon. And really, faking the destruction of the books to cover up their real location makes a lot more sense than believing Emma Frost actually sent Sam to retrieve the incredibly suspicious looking red box that contained the most important object in the world, while half the super villains on the planet were chasing him.

Believing the diaries weren't really destroyed just requires the reader to accept that Emma would lie to the other X-Men, and keep lying to them for years, and that she'd be willing to put Sam and Bobby's lives at risk to protect that lie. Which she was already doing in that story anyway. She was already lying to everyone when she changed everyone's memories. And she—and Scott and Kitty—was already fine with risking everyone's lives when setting up a decoy trap in a school. So that's why I think this works better as a continuation of the existing, known, story of the diaries, and not a direct retcon to what happened.

In conclusion I think Emma knows about Moira because Moira got the diaries from somewhere, and Emma is the person she could have gotten them from. Nothing proves a direct hand-off in, like, a formal standard of proof or anything, but Emma having access to the diaries for so long, and having been wrapped up in this whole weird plot thread—which involves Moira and most of the Quiet Council—is enough to imply the connection in a story sense.

(ETA - For completion’s sake, there is also a weird story I didn’t go into called Chaos War that was published in 2011 where Moira is resurrected and finds a book in the ruins of the Xavier School that may or may not be one of the diaries, and touching it causes her soul to merge with Destiny’s, who then possesses her and guides her through a quest to destroy an evil god. This was an odd story to place in continuity at the time, and has only gotten stranger, given  1. that couldn’t be the real Moira, 2. Destiny is not merged with her soul. If this is in continuity (it’s been suggested that Moira’s golem was the character in this event), and all of the characters are who they say they are, and if the book in question was actually one of the thirteen diaries (and not some other book that Irene also wrote), then it requires Emma to have deliberately left one of the thirteen books behind for “Moira” to find, which if anything only adds to the likelihood that she knows what’s up)

[rhysismydaddy]

The Bodyguard (Elorcan)

MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE SHIP.

I wrote a lot of Elorcan a while ago on my phone and realized I’ve literally been posting Nessian nonstop, so we’ll take a little break. 

I have no idea how many parts this is going to be, but it’s a bit more of a slow burn than my usual fics, so probably 5ish. Not much happens in this part, but it get’s more interesting lol. Let me know if you want to be tagged :)

Part 2 | Part 3

______________________________________________________________

Elide rolled out of bed Monday morning to the sound of a loud, incessant banging on her front door. How someone was managing to put that much aggression and frustration into a simple knock baffled her. 

She swung it open and yelled, “What the hell do you want?”

When she looked up--and up and up and up--to the man standing in front of her, she instantly regretted her choice of tone. 

This was not a man you yelled at. Hell, this was not a man you poked with a very, very long stick. 

The stranger towered above her, making all five feet of her feet insignificant. He had long dark hair pulled back in a bun, tan skin, and eyes that looked almost black. Chiseled cheek bones, a jaw set in a scowl, and head to toe black clothing completed the look. 

Elide didn’t know how to feel about his appearance, actually. 

It was definitely abrasive and intimidating. Or to most it would be. She’d lost her fear of “scary” men a while ago. She knew firsthand the most innocent looking man could be the most sadistic. 

And yet, beneath all the black clothing and deep scowl, the man standing in front of her was also attractive in a dangerous, rough way. 

But what the hell did he want?

“Elide Lochan?” he asked, his voice conveying everything written across his face effortlessly. 

“Um, yes?” How did he know who she was? 

“I’m with The Galathynius Guarship. I’ve been assigned to watch over you.” He seemed satisfied with that explanation, but she sure as hell wasn’t.

“Galathynius? As in Aelin Galathynius?”

If possible, his scowl got deeper. “The one and only. But more specifically, I owe the whipped little bitch who calls himself her husband a favor.”

“Hold on,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Rowan sent you?”

This was beyond weird. Aelin was one of her best friends, but she didn’t spend all that much time around her husband. 

The man in front of her sighed, so much aggression in the one simple sound. “I suspect that he was told to cash in the favor in this specific way by a certain fire-breathing bitch queen, but yes, he was the one who called me.”

“Okay, but why?”

His eyes met hers, and she somehow knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. It didn’t soften the words in the slightest, though. 

“He found you.”

Fuck.

An involuntary shiver ran over her, but she hid it behind a stretch. “How do they know?”

“Rowan said they’ve been watching your uncle for a while, and that he just bought an apartment in the city. He’s also made inquiries into this complex about you, and a black sedan has been spotted canvassing the building you work in.” 

He said it all in that same cold, almost bored tone, and for some reason, that kept the panic at bay. 

Elide straightened her spine and put on her best smile. “Thank you for telling me. I don’t need a bodyguard, though.”

He shrugged one massive shoulder. “I don’t care.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I owe Whitehorn a favor, and this is what the bastard asked for, so I don’t particularly care if you think you don’t need a bodyguard, although I expect that to be false.” He looked her head to toe as he said that last part, and her blood started to boil. 

She wanted him gone. Now.

Glaring at him, she snatched her phone and dialed Aelin’s number. 

“Hi, Elide. You know it’s like six in the morning, right?”

“Believe me, I’m not happy to be awake at this hour, either. I was woken up by...” she realized she didn’t know the man’s name. “someone pounding on the door. He says he’s my new bodyguard and that you had something to do with it.”

“His name is Lorcan Salvaterre.”

She sighed, continuing to glare at him. “Well, I appreciate the thought, but tell Lorcan Salvaterre to piss off. I’ve been on my own my entire life, and I’m fine.”

“Barely,” Aelin said quietly. 

She paused, ignoring that train of thought, then tried a different tactic. “You know he’s like ten feet tall right?” Lorcan rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to keep a low profile with him following me?”

Aelin laughed softly. “He’s a tall, insufferable bastard, but he’ll keep you safe. At this point, your uncle’s seen where you live and work, so keeping a low profile doesn’t exactly matter.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “But-”

“Listen.” There was a little fire in her best friend’s tone now. “I do not plan on repeating what happened two years ago. Ever. So until we figure out how to throw Vernon in a deep, dark hole no one will ever find him in, Lorcan stays. Just ignore him.”

“Easier said than done,” she muttered back.

She could practically see Aelin’s smile. “Good luck. Stay safe.”

The line clicked dead, and she threw her phone on her couch in defeat. 

“Your powers of persuasion are truly something magnificent,” Lorcan Salvaterre told her in a mocking tone. “I’m tall? Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?”

“It’s 6 AM and I’m tired,” she defended, suddenly annoyed. “But I’m already up, so I guess I’ll just go to work early.”

She shut the door in his face so she wouldn’t have to even think about inviting him in.

Damn.

Damn damn damn!

This was so frustrating. She felt... helpless and desperate and trapped. Everyone in her life was trying to keep her safe, but she found herself wanting to be alone and independent for once in her life. 

And she was afraid. 

After finally escaping her uncle’s country estate and moving to the city, she’d sworn she’d never let him make her feel like this again. 

And yet, just the mention of him being in the same city as her made her tremble with fear. Fear, and more than a little rage.

Elide stepped under the shower spray, closing her eyes. Images from her lifetime of misery flickered through her mind, and unlike usual, she didn’t even bother blocking them out. 

They played like a montage in her head, showing her all the reasons she had to be afraid of her uncle. 

Her parents funeral. The first time Vernon had asked her to come to his office. The hidden bruises. The ruined ankle from the time he’d refused to let her go to the doctor and get the bone set. The scars on her wrists and ankles from her chains. 

The emotional scars from everything else.

She squeezed her eyes closed, shut off the onslaught of memories, and stepped out of the shower. 

As usual, she put on jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, even though it was almost summer. Even though she’d made peace with her scars, she didn’t want people to see and gawk. She got a few odd looks for being dressed so heavily, but it kept her more comfortable, so Elide didn’t care. 

She straightened her dark hair, swiped on a little makeup, and grabbed her bag. 

When she opened the door again, Lorcan was still standing there, leaning against the wall across from her. He didn’t even seem to notice her very conservative apparel, but his eyes swept over her face, studying her closely. 

“Ready?”

She nodded, a little nervous by how observant he seemed, but followed as he turned and walked towards the stairs. 

Living on the second floor had a few advantages, but the biggest had to be that she didn’t have to wait for the slow ass elevator that almost never worked. Soon, they were out on the street, walking towards her building. 

Feeling like a million eyes were on her now that she was in public, she tugged on her sleeves and ducked her head. 

“They’re probably staring at me, not you,” Lorcan said with a grimace. 

Oh, there was no “probably” about it. 

Everyone--everyone--was looking at the man strolling next to her. Some with blatant fear on their faces, some just in shock. 

She supposed she couldn’t really blame them. He was large and imposing and looked like he could snap anyone in half who dared to cross him. 

The attention still made her uncomfortable. She preferred to go through life unnoticed, and Lorcan was like a magnet to both men and women’s attention. 

Spotting her favorite coffee shop, she almost cried in relief. She tugged on Lorcan’s arm, and he followed her inside, dark eyes scanning everyone there for signs of a threat. 

Considering this was the most hippie, backwater place in the city, it was a short search. 

“Hey, Elide,” the woman behind the counter said with a smile.

Elide smiled back. “Hey, Asterin.” 

Asterin was one of her best friends in the city. They’d met in the hospital’s mandatory group therapy for people who had suffered certain times of “trauma” and had instantly bonded over their shared hate of one of the nurses. 

“Same as usual?”

She nodded, then turned to Lorcan. “Do you want anything?”

“No,” he responded, eyes hovering on Asterin as if she were a threat.

Granted, her friend was in her usual all black, mostly leather attire and had multiple piercings gracing her beautiful face, but this was Asterin for crying out loud. She was more than a little protective of Elide.

“Who’s the mutt?” the object of his attention asked in a too-friendly voice. 

Elide sighed, unsure how to explain. If Asterin knew her uncle was in town, things were bound to get a little haywire. 

“It’s a long story,” she dodged, sliding a bill across the counter. Her friend looked at her like she’d grown two heads. 

“When’s the last time I charged you?”

Never. 

She stuck it in the tip jar, making Asterin roll her eyes. A moment later, she brought back her vanilla latte and said, “I’ll see you Friday, right?”

For a moment, she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, but it came rushing back a second later. Friday. Concert. Asterin’s band. “Yeah, sure.”

She could feel Lorcan’s eyes narrow, but she pulled him out before he could cause a scene. 

“What’s happening Friday?” he asked as soon as they were outside. 

Taking a deep drink of her coffee, she replied, “Asterin’s band is having a concert at MSK.”

He brooded for a minute over this information. “No. A crowded area is not exactly safe for you right now.”

Elide stopped walking, her eyebrows high on her forehead. “No? No?”

He was fucking crazy if he thought she’d do whatever he wanted just because he’d been assigned to follow her around. 

Lorcan repeated the word, and she saw red.

“You are not going to tell me what I can and cannot do, you stupidly large bastard. I’ve spent my entire life with someone who did that for me, and I won’t put up with it for a second longer.” 

He sighed, and that just pissed her off more. 

“If you’re not confident in your skills to guard me in a crowded area, then maybe you shouldn't be here,” she snapped. 

His dark eyes narrowed. “I’m more than confident in myself, Elide. That doesn’t mean it isn’t stupid to put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

She just rolled her eyes and stormed away, well aware his long legs would catch up to her in a second. “I’m going.”

“Fucking hell. You mean we’re going,” he corrected with a gruff. 

She smirked. “At least you won’t have to buy any new clothes. They’re a pretty goth band.”

Elide didn’t need to look to know his scowl deepened, and the thought brought a bright smile to her face as she walked into her office building. 

“Morning, Elide,” the receptionist, Tom, called. She waved back.

Lorcan did not. 

He just followed her down the hallway to the suit labeled Perranth Wellness Center, through the lobby and staff kitchen, and into her office. When she tried to shut the door behind her, his hand shot out above her head and stopped it. “I’m coming in.”

“You most certainly are not.”

He showed her she was, in fact, incorrect in that statement by pushing her out of the way and strolling in. Her office was exactly what it was supposed to be: calm, relaxed, covered in plants, and home to a comfy black sofa, two chairs, and a desk. 

As a therapist, it was all pretty much standard. 

Lorcan dragged one of the chairs into a corner near her bookcase, then sat down. 

“You can’t stay in here! I have appointments today!”

He gave her a strange look. “I assumed as much. I’m fine here.”

Elide pinched the bridge of her nose to keep from strangling him. “I’m bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. You legally cannot be in here.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not leaving you in here with a bunch of crazy people.”

“They aren’t crazy! They just talk about their problems.”

The look on his face said that statement proved his point. “I can assure you I won’t care what they say.”

“I am not losing my license because you have some insane idea that my clients are violent!”

Suddenly he was on his feet, towering over her, looking at her as if she were a naive little girl. “Elide. Has it not occurred to you Vernon could send someone as a fake client to get to you?”

No. 

“I’m safe here,” she lied. She wasn’t safe anywhere.

“If you actually believed that, then why do you have a knife strapped under your desk?”

How the hell had he found that? He hadn’t even searched the place!

She bit her lip, trying to figure out how to diffuse this situation. “I’m getting the idea you’re not up for negotiation on this point.” He shook his head like the stubborn asshat he was. “Fine. You can stay as long as you tell people you’re shadowing to become a therapist yourself.”

His dark eyebrows shot up. “I don’t exactly fit the bill for a therapist.”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.” The dark attire and permanent scowl were sure to raise some brows, but it was the only option. Elide rolled her eyes and tried to calm down. “Try smiling or something.”

He looked as if she’d suggested he run naked through the city in the dead of winter, but before he could argue, a knock on the door sounded. “Dr. Lochan? Your eight o’clock is here.”

She shoved Lorcan to the chair in the corner, and he plopped down with a sigh. 

“Send him in!”

This would be interesting. 

Twenty minutes later, Elide corrected her statement from interesting to big fat mistake. 

Her client, Wayne Jefferies, kept looking towards the corner Lorcan was situated in, eyes wide. As someone who had a strong fear of practically everything that moved, this situation was less than ideal. 

He tilted his ear toward something she couldn’t see, then whispered, “He’s here to kill me.”

Wayne was also a raging schizophrenic. 

“No one is here to kill you, Wayne. Close your eyes and focus on the sound of my voice.” Once he did, she turned around and shot a glare over her shoulder at the hulking brute. Stop it, she mouthed. 

His brow scrunched. Stop what? 

Scaring him! 

Before he could mouth something back, Wayne’s eyes shot open. “They’re saying I should kill him first.”

Oh, good gracious. 

“Feel free to try,” Lorcan said in a low voice. 

Wayne jumped to his feet, thrusting an accusatory finger towards the corner. “See! He’s after me!”

“If I was after you, you’d be dead,” her very helpful protector reasoned. 

Wayne paused, then opened his mouth to shout something else. Before he could, Elide said gently, “Sit down, Wayne. No one here is going to hurt you. I promise. Shut the voices out and imagine a wall being built around your mind, keeping you safe.”

Her client was silent, so she turned around and glared at Lorcan. He just rolled his eyes, then leaned back and closed them.

This was going to be a long day. 

~

After three other appointments, which had gone a little smoother actually, Elide was exhausted. Hearing about other people’s problems both helped rationalize hers and drained her. 

She walked to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, Lorcan following behind dutifully. 

“Dr. Lochan! Got a package for you,” Tom said, handing her a thin package. 

Before Lorcan could snatch it up, she grabbed a knife and cut it open, revealing what was inside. 

Yet another mistake. 

A handwritten note in beautiful, recognizable calligraphy, read: I’ll see you soon.

It was a promise, threat, and taunt all in one. How like Vernon.

Knowing he would never send just a little threat, she ignored the dread unfurling in her stomach and flipped the card over.

And stared down at a black and white picture of herself, asleep in bed. 

The covers were thrown back, exposing her bare legs, and her shirt had ridden up while she slept. She looked young and innocent. Vulnerable. 

But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that it had been taken from directly in front of the bed. Inside her room. 

The angle of the camera made that obvious. It also revealed that the person who’d taken the picture had done so with painstaking care, getting just the right angle to make it look as if a lover had taken it. 

Bile rose in her throat as she stared at it, trying desperately to figure out how they’d gotten inside her apartment. 

And why hadn’t they just taken her then and there?

Lorcan snatched the note and picture out of her hands, jaw locking tightly. He studied the photo, the note, everything. “I’ll search the apartment when we get back. They can’t get to you with me there.”

His confidence was unwavering and let her relax a little. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

But somehow, in the back of her mind, she knew it wasn’t. This was just the beginning for Vernon. 

He’d always enjoyed the thrill of making her as terrified as possible before finally unleashing whatever sick desire he had planned out. The waiting was half the fun for him. 

And he’d just let her know he could get to her whenever, wherever. No matter who was around. 

It was a strong opening move, she had to admit. The obviously-desired fear was there, pushing on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. 

But there was something else, something new. Something that had only developed in the year she’d been free. 

It was rage, sure. But it was a cold, calculated rage that only came with one thing. 

Revenge. 

______________________________________________________________

ooOOooh dramatic ending for the win. 

Part 2

@ladywitchling @perseusannabeth @studyliketate @cursebreaker29 @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life

[cherryblossom-chopper]

I'm kinda sucker for akward senarios. So how about this. Marco, Thatch and Ace have ask their crush on a date. It goes well they both have fun and boys think they have good chance. But the crush is oblivius af so when the boys say it was a great DATE the crush gets the oh shit face and asks "wait it was a date" how would they react. (The crush likes them back but is OBLIVIUS)ps, love your work here🤗

FUKKK O K A Y

So this legit happened to me when I was like a junior on high school. This kid who was on the tech crew in the theater performance I was in, had been a long time friend of mine. So when he asked me if I wanted to get some food via text my dumbass thought nothing of it and I just thought that he wanted to some dinner because we we’.re going to have a late night practice. We went to this little pizza placed and he even pA I D FOr mY FOOD!! I had no idea it was suppose to be a date and it was a mess. When I found out it was a date I felt really bad because I had no idea. Legit no clue and I just didn’t feel that way about him either. So that was awkward, ANY WAY thank you for supporting me, my love and I’m sorry that this took so long

The actually content is below the cut lol

~Post writing note: Thatch’s is shorter and I’m really sorry about that, I just felt like I couldn’t do his character justice.~

Marco

     Marco sucked in a breath and cracked his knuckles. The Moby Dick was gently docking at the port. Good ole Pops decided it would be a beautiful enough day to resupply the ships. To the excitement of the White Beard Pirates, the island was currently holding an annual festival. The pirates were, of course, welcomed with open arms, for the islanders had been under White Beards protection for multiple years.

     Many of the crew had already launched themselves off the ship to start their party a bit early, but Marco and (Name) had been caught by Pops before they could sneak away. The old geezer figured they’d been more than enough crew members to start picking out supplies for the ship.

     Marco had silently cursed his captain. (Name) made him nervous, his heart would beat faster, and his hands begin to sweat. He could never find the right words to say, and his mouth sometimes ran dry. The phoenix had confided in Thatch, who laughed in his face. His old friend claimed Marco had just fallen in love with their spunky friend. Marco had a sneaking suspicion that Thatch told  Pops due to the grin on the old man’s face when he left with (Name).

     The duo initially was on the search for supplies, but when (Name) grabbed Marco’s wrist and pointed towards a group of street performers. “Marco, can we go watch for a just a minute?” they asked, offering the most prominent puppy dog eyes the pirate could manage.

     Marco could feel a blush creeping up on his face, and he sheepishly nodded. (Name) was just too damn precious for him to ever say no. He bit his lip as (Name) dragged him across the road towards the performers. Marco smiled a bit while gazing at them. (Name) looked so happy, their eyes were lit up, like a little kid at a birthday party.

     The two of them swayed to the beat of the sound of drums, and Marco took a moment to relax. He shut his eyes and tilted his head upwards towards the sun. Marco smiled a little as he felt (Name)s fingers still tenderly curled around his wrist.

     Peaking his eyes open, Marco caught sight of something colorful in the sky. Squinting, he was able to tell it was a hot air balloon. As he watched it float peacefully past the clouds, he got a wonderfully awful, horrible, probably no good idea that put a lump in his throat.

     “Hey, (Name), what do you think of going on a hot air balloon ride? Just the two of us,” Marco asked cooly, his eyes still fixed on the balloon still floating in the sky.

     “Oh! That sounds like a nice way to see the island,” (Name) grinned as they also spotted the air balloon as well, “Where can we get one?”

     Marco shrugged and took a moment to speak to some locals, hoping they’d have an answer for him. A few young ladies, blushed and giggled at him and was able to point him in the right direction. Marco returned to (Name) and bit the inside of his cheek. He held out his hand to his friend, “They said it’s on the edge of town. I think I know the way.” Marco smiled as (Name) took his hand, and he guided them down the street, past the performers.

     After wandering around town, the two managed to find the place that the rides had been offered. Marco tossed a handful of deliciously golden coins to the man standing by the balloon. He helped (Name) into the basket and smiled over his shoulder to the man staring at them. “Don’t worry, I know how to drive one of these,” he united the rope and hopped into the balloon’s basket.

     Marco felt at easy as they were gently carried away from the ground. He watched the man began to become nothing more a speck among the greenery. He looked over towards (Name), who was nervously peering towards the ground.

     “You okay?” Marco placed a gentle hand on their shoulder. (Name) nodded and offered him a weak smile. “Of course, I just forgot how much heights freak me out?” (Name) replied.

     Marco smiled a bit and sat on the bottom of the basket and patted the spot beside him, “Will you sit with me? I think I can help.”

     (Name) nodded and sat beside him. “Sorry, I made to come up here,” Marco mumbled sheepishly, “I didn’t realize you were scared of heights.”

     They glanced at him and pouted a little bit, “I’m not scared of heights. I don’t want to fall.”

     The pirate chuckled and wrapped an around (Name) ’s shoulder. “Don’t worry (Name). You’re always safe with me,” he promised to them as they shyly rested their head on his shoulder. Marco smiled more and began to hum a little lullaby to help soothe (Name).

     Marco couldn’t help but think that the day he was living was torn from the pages of a fairy tale. The sun was setting as Marco retired a few small sandbags to the basket, and he offered (Name) his hand. They gently took it and lifted them to their feet.

     “Are you feeling better?” Marco rubbed gentle circles on (Name) ’s back. They chuckled and nodded, “I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.” (Name) gazed at the setting sun while squeezing Marco’s hand.

     The balloon settled gently onto the ground, and Marco helped (Name) out of the basket. “Thank you” (Name) held onto him as they tried not to tumble out of the basket. Marco chuckled a little, “Care to get back in?”

     (Name) shook their head a little, “Heights are not my thing!” As they turned to head back into the center of town, (Name) stopped dead in their tracks, “Marco, we forgot to pick out supplies for the ship.”

     Marco snorted, “It’s alright, Pops will forgive us because we finally went on a date.“     “Date? A-are you sure about that?” (Name) looked up at him with wide eyes.

He quirked an eyebrow, and a smirk lit upon his face, “Of course it was. Did you have any idea?”

     They looked down shyly and blushed darkly, “No, Marco. I’m sorry, but I still enjoyed it. Could we maybe go on another one?”

     Tenderly Marco took (Name)“ s hand and pressed a kiss to their knuckles, "Of course, we can.”

Thatch

     Dinner time with the White Beard Pirates is always a vivacious event. Men laughing, howling, and drinking to excess is a common occurrence. However, what wasn’t a common occurrence was the missing commander Thatch. This dork was, of course, in the kitchen. After the chefs had cleared out of the kitchen, the former cook began creating his own masterpiece from food.

     Sweat trickled down his face, and his eccentric pompadour was somewhat disheveled. He had finally gotten enough courage to ask his long-time crush to have a private dinner with him. Thatch would’ve asked them earlier, but every time he tried, the words died on his tongue, and he ended up blabbering like a fool. However, thanks to the encouragement of Ace, or what Thatch called medaling, he finally asked (Name) to dinner.

      He was putting the final touches on the dessert parfait he had created when there was a knock on the kitchen door. For a moment, his heart stopped before he stowed the dessert away into the refrigerator. 

     Thatch tried smoothed out his wild mane of hair, and he dabbed the sweat from his forehead. He opened the door and smiled at (Name). “ You made it,” he opened the door for them.

     “Oh wow, Thatch, it smells great in here,” (Name) sniffed the air and spied the food on the table. Thatch invited (Name) to sit a the table and began preparing a plate for them.

     “I cooked a chicken with carrots, red potatoes, and onions,” Thatch sliced off some chicken and piled a few carrots and potatoes onto the plate, “I hope that’s okay.”

     (Name) picked up a fork and watched him set down the plate, and gingerly they took a bite of the chicken. “Oh Thatch!” they cried, “It’s so good! I can’t believe you’ve denied me such yummy food for so long.”

     The commander chuckled a little, “ I use to cook a lot more, but sometimes life gets busy.” He settled down at the table and stuck a piece of potato into his mouth.

     (Name) nodded solemnly, “Well, maybe you could teach me how to cook?” they looked up at him with a hopeful expression.

     A grin as bright as a thousand suns appeared of Thatch’s face. “Aw, (Name), I would love that!” He beamed, “I’d love to get to spend to get extra time with you.” Thatch tried to hide his blush by dabbing his face with a napkin.

     (Name) grinned “It’s a date then!” they teased

     Thatch sat up straight, his face was red, and his eyes were wide. “You want to go on another date with me?” he practically squeaked out. He watched them closely.

     (Name) tilted their head and blushed darkly, “What?”

     He rubbed the back of his neck, “Well, you agreed to come to dinner with me.” 

     “I didn’t realize this was supposed to be a date,” (Name) hid their face a little, “But I’d be more than happy to go on another one with you.”

     Thatch grinned widely and blew (Name) a kiss from across the table, “I’ll try to think of something more fun to do next time, darling.”

Ace

     The waves splashed Ace’s sun-kissed skin, as he stood knee-deep in the ocean water. He bent down and scooped up a tulip-shaped shell. Ace marveled over the red and cream-colored seashell.

     He waded out of the clear sea waves, and Ace walked toward a shady tree grove were a few pirates had been dozing. He smiled as his friends slept comfortably on the small patch of grass. He knelt down and shook (Name) with his free hand.

     (Name) grunted and peaked a grumpy eye open. They glanced up at Ace, before grumbling out, “I was sleeping. What do you need?”

     Ace grinned, “I found a cool shell.” He opened his palm as (Name) sat up and rubbed the sleep from their eyes.

     They grinned and examined the shell, “It’s such a cute tiny thing. Do you think we can find more?”

    “We’d have to get back into the ocean, but sure.” Ace smiled kindly and offered to help (Name) up, “That’s where I found this one, anyway.”

     (Name) jumped to their feet and stepped into their boots, “Are you okay, Ace? You know the water does a number on you devil fruit guys.”

     Ace chuckled and shook his head, “I’m just perfectly fine (Name). I’m the fire-fist, a little water is going to hurt me at all.” He dragged (Name) away from the grove and into the sun and sand.

     “I don’t think you should get back in the ocean, Ace” (Name) mumbled, “How about we just look on the beach instead?”

     He looked down at the sand and shook his head while chuckling. “Have you always been so worried about me (Name)?”

     “Of course” (Name) blushed and looked away, “We’re crewmates, right?” They began to start searching the beach for shells sitting on the hot sand. Ace followed them and started the search with a little grin.

     The duo spent the day searching for a little piece of washed-up coral and empty seashells to study. However, the sun began to beat down on (Name), and they started to get worn out.

     “Can we take a break, Ace?” (Name) tugged on their shirt, in hopes to cool off, “It’s too hot out here.”

     Ace smiled a bit and sat on the beach. “Sure, come sit by me,” he patted the spot next to him, “We can relax for a little while.” He tilted the brim of his hat up to look at (Name). He couldn’t help but pull them closer when they sat beside him.

      (Name) squeaked, “Hey! It’s too hot out for this!” they stilled smiled despite the protests.

     “It’s just so hot out because of you,” Ace winked at (Name) as he was smirking. He chuckled when they blushed darkly and butted Ace’s shoulder with their head.

      Ace leaned back into the sand and covered his face with his hat. “You know, I’m happy you decided to come out with me. It’s not the first date I imagined, but this is good too.”

      (Name)s head snapped down to look at Ace. It felt like their tongue had become dry as sandpaper. They sat by his side and watched him for a moment. “I think this was a good first date, too.” they finally murmured, only to hear Ace snore in response.

     They couldn’t help but gap in response, before smiling sweetly at Ace. They tenderly placed a kiss on the sleeping man's cheek before laying against his chest. (Name) smiled and rested their eyes, “My favorite fire-fist dork.”

[pandorica0011]

Pretty Blue Eyes

Word Count: 1,570

Notes: This is my gift for @endlesscolddreams for @spring-has-come‘s Secret Santa event! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Endless! I’m so sorry this is so late! I decided to go with your first prompt: Overprotective America and enabling Russia and I added your bonus of top America lol. I really enjoyed working on this. It was something different and I loved the challenge. Now, to anyone else who reads this, this fic is NSFW, but I won’t tag it to reduce the risk of it being taken down. I’m confident it might not though, because according to the guidelines, if it’s writing it’s fine? Idk, it’s weird. Well, if anything does happen, I’ll post it elsewhere and link it instead. Anyway, enjoy!

Alfred was just a bit overprotective. 

Well, just “a bit overprotective” was being generous. He was like a five year old with his favorite toy. Not that Ivan minded much. That was just how Alfred was. He was fiercely loyal, but he could be too much sometimes. 

He had questioned the idea of dating someone as seemingly immature as Alfred was when he first met him. When Alfred had shown interest in him, he had almost turned him down, but he didn’t. He didn’t know why hadn’t just said no and gone on with his life, but after dating Alfred for a few years, and falling madly in love with him, he finally realized why he had said yes. 

It was his eyes.

Alfred had such beautiful, hopeful eyes. Even now they shone brightly and made Ivan fall in love all over again. Of course, those bright eyes lied. Those bright eyes hid a boy that grew up too soon, afraid of loss and loneliness. But, somehow, Ivan couldn’t bring himself to mind. He understood his fears and worries, sympathized with his actions. In Alfred, he had found a kindred spirit. 

“Ivan,” Alfred said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Ivan nodded. “I’m okay, it’s just a nick.”

Alfred gave him a dubious look, but didn’t press the issue; instead, he ran a washcloth under some warm water and held it against the side of Ivan’s heck. “What happened?”

“There was an incident with the glass vase in the bathroom,” Ivan explained. He had always had trouble with that awkwardly-placed vase. There were times when he very nearly missed knocking it over, but not this time. This time the damn thing had fallen over on the sink when Ivan went to dry his hands and a shard had nicked his neck. 

Alfred didn’t say anything, but the grim expression on his face remained. He dabbed the washcloth against the cut and placed a band aid over it. 

“I’m okay, honestly.”

He couldn’t say he blamed Alfred for being so worried. He would be worried as well if he had heard the sound of broken glass and came in to find Alfred bleeding from the side of his neck, no matter how small the cut.  

That seemed to reassure Alfred at least a little bit, but it didn’t stop him from shaking his head and saying,“You reckless idiot.” 

“You’re one to talk.” 

Alfred blew him a raspberry and Ivan laughed. His good-natured humor didn’t last long however; instead, Alfred looked to Ivan with an unreadable expression. 

Ivan sighed. Alfred definitely wouldn’t leave his side now. He’d be too worried that something else would happen to Ivan. 

“Hey, I’m okay. Really,” Ivan reached out and took hold of both of Alfred’s wrists and guided them around his neck, careful not to hurt himself. 

They sat in silence for a while, Alfred never tearing his gaze away. Those striking blue eyes made Ivan weak.

 Alfred leaned in, gripping the back of Ivan’s shirt, and pulled him into a sloppy kiss. Ivan wrapped his arms around Alfred’s waist and pulled him closer, his hand sliding up Alfred’s shirt, into the warmth of his lower back. 

Alfred moaned into the kiss and rolled his hips against Ivan’s, sending a jolt of pleasure down his spine. 

They moved against one another for a while before Alfred pulled away and pulled his own shirt off in one fluid motion. He reached for his pants, but Ivan took hold of Alfred’s hands pulled him over himself once again, and placed them on either side of his head so Alfred’s lips were inches away from his own. Alfred pulled him back into a kiss; this time it was desperate. Alfred slipped his hands into Ivan’s hair and gripped tight.  

Ivan reached for Alfred’s pants, desperate fingers fumbling with the button before pulling them down and slipping his hands down the front of Alfred’s boxers. 

Alfred pulled away to let out a gasping breath and clasped his hand over Ivan’s through his boxers. Ivan couldn’t stop himself from admiring the light blush that dusted Alfred’s cheeks and the dark eyelashes that hooded his pretty blue eyes. 

The rest of their clothes fell away and Alfred went to work admiring Ivan’s body. Ivan couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous under the scrutiny of Alfred’s gaze, especially when he took a good look at Alfred’s bare chest. How did he survive looking at Alfred until now? He licked his dry lips. Alfred had no idea of the effect his body had on Ivan. 

“Alfred,” Ivan gasped, barely able to keep a straight head when Alfred kissed his way down his body, stopping just short of his crotch and running his hands over Ivan’s sides. He dipped his head and traced his lips across the expanse of Ivan’s abdomen, his warm breath teasing as he made his way down to Ivan’s thighs, and squeezed his hips.

“Alfred, please,” Ivan began, but Alfred gave him no time to finish because without warning, he took Ivan into his mouth as he kneaded his thighs and oh god, if Ivan could just hold on to this feeling forever. 

Unfortunately, the feeling didn’t last long, because Alfred pulled away and sat back on his knees. He gazed around the room a bit before looking to Ivan, a sheepish look on his face. “Hey, do you have- erm, it would hurt less if we had something to..” he trailed off. 

Ivan chuckled. Alfred had no shame when it came to acting on his impulsive thoughts, but the moment he needed to ask, he had no idea what to say. 

“It is in the dresser by the door. Last drawer,” Ivan supplied, suppressing his smile when Alfred practically tossed himself off the bed to go get the lube. 

When he came back, he settled between Ivan’s thighs once more, and popped open the bottle. 

Ivan could never get used to the feeling of Alfred’s hand between his legs. 

Before long, Alfred entered him slowly, his hand searching for Ivan’s and intertwining them against the pillow by his head. 

They held each other until Ivan shifted and Alfred pushed the rest of the way in. He leaned down and pressed his body flush against Ivan’s, making them both shudder. 

Ivan wrapped his hands around Alfred’s shoulders and let Alfred slide up against him, the friction and heat radiating off both their bodies was suffocating. 

Alfred was relentless and set a forceful rhythm, making Ivan see stars. He held on as tight as he could. All the while, he couldn’t stop a series of ragged breaths and whines from leaving his lips. “Alfred, A-Alfred…” 

They moved together, Ivan burying his head in Alfred’s chest to muffle his gasps. He tried desperately to meet Alfred’s thrusts, but he shook too much to keep up. 

“Come on, baby. That’s it,” Alfred groaned, gripping the back of Ivan’s knee harder. 

Ivan stopped holding back his moans and gasps, throwing his head back against the pillows. “Oh- A-Alfred. Mm- ah!” 

He could feel the heat rising, the sweat dripping down his forehead. He dug his nails into Alfred’s back, crying out with every thrust. It wasn’t too long before he couldn’t hold on any longer and his body shook harder with the pent up pleasure. 

Alfred reached down and took Ivan in his hand, stroking him in time with his own thrusts. 

“Come on baby, come for me.” 

And Ivan did. He let out a breathless moan of Alfred’s name and came all over his hand and stomach. He let himself fall back into the pillows, his body warm and tingly now. 

Alfred sped up his thrusts, his face flushed and contorted in pleasure. 

After a couple of thrusts, Alfred groaned, his hips stuttering before coming to a halt and spilling himself inside Ivan. He draped himself over Ivan, and buried his head in the crook of his neck, his heaving breaths tickling Ivan. He placed a feather-light kiss to the bandage over the shallow cut on Ivan’s neck. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked. 

“No, I’m okay now.“ 

Alfred nodded, but pulled away so that Ivan was looking into his eyes. He had taken his glasses off, so no matter how alert he seemed, he knew Alfred couldn’t see his face very well. That didn’t stop him from trying, however. He looked straight into his eyes, searching for something. 

He was worried. Ivan could see it that. He placed his hand on Alfred’s cheek and ran his thumb across the soft, flushed skin. "I really am okay, you know." 

Alfred nodded once again, but said nothing. 

"Alfred, it’s okay to be worried, but I’m safe. I’m here with you,” Ivan reassured him, pulling him down into a tight hug. 

Alfred tucked his arms under Ivan’s body and rested their heads together. “I know,” was all he said. “I love you so much." 

Ivan kissed the top of his head. "I love you too." 

A comfortable silence fell over them, and eventually Alfred fell asleep where he rested on Ivan. His dark eyelashes creating shadows over his soft, boyish features. 

Ivan traced a thumb across his cheek and placed another light kiss to his forehead. Everyday, he thanked those pretty blue eyes, temporarily hidden from the world, for introducing him to his wonderfully annoying, childish, and overprotective Alfred. 

[justauthoring]

No Reason To (21/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

It has come to my attention that by adding links to my posts, it stops that post from being seen in the tags tagged. So, sadly, I will no longer be able to link previous parts of NRT on new chapters. BUT all part can be found easily on my “No Reason To Series MasterList!” found in my bio.

A/N: SURPRISE!! I couldn’t wait until Saturday (or even Friday, lol) so I decided to just post this part early!! I’ve already started working on part 22, so that should still be up this Saturday as we fall back into routine :) anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter! I’m super freaking proud of it, so please let me know what you thought!

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 03x17 and 03x18

“Okay, Stiles... We don’t know-”

“It was my handwriting!”

Biting your lip, you turn to Stiles with wide eyes, your feet halting to a stop upon his outburst. It’s not that you blamed him -- he had every right to be upset and panicked like he was. But you needed to keep a level head about this sort of thing. Think rationally through it. There had to be an explanation as to why it was Stiles’ handwriting up on that chalkboard.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles whispers, his voice shaky as he dips his head in shame. His eyes lower to his hands, which won’t stop shaking, and your gaze follows his own. Ignoring the racing of your heart pounding against your chest, you take a step forward, setting your hand over Stiles in an attempt to calm him. It pulls his eyes on yours once again, and hesitantly, you move your hand to his cheek, cupping it.

“It’s okay,” you reassure. “It’ll be okay.”

Stiles exhales heavily, “it was my handwriting, Y/N. I had the key. How do we explain that?”

Sighing, your shoulders fall. You didn’t have an explanation for that. The gears in your head were working rapid to do so, but it just didn’t make any sense. Why did Stiles have the key? Why was it his handwriting on that chalkboard? How had he even gotten the key in the first place? These questions run rampant in your mind, never easing you.

“We’ll figure it, okay?” You attempt to soothe Stiles, your thumb stroking across his cheek, your eyes never leaving his. “We’ll tell Scott... he can help us.”

Stiles nods, and the two of you pull apart, as if realizing how close you’d become for the first time. Meeting his eyes one final time, the two of you continue to make your way into the school, in alert for Scott. And, as if your brother can read your mind, he appears before the both of you. By his stature, he seems just as urgent to talk to you two as well.

But, Stiles speaks up before he can. “Scott,” he calls, briefly glancing your way before setting his hand on Scott’s shoulder and pulling him in step with the both of you. “Come on,” he urges, his step never slowing, even as your brother glances back at you in great confusion. “You know that key I talked to you about last night?”

Scott nods his head.

“It’s the key to the chemistry closet,” Stiles explains, and it’s then that you realize he’s leading the both of you exactly there. To the chemistry classroom. “Last night Y/N said she saw phosphors on the key, and about it having chemicals on it, okay?”

When Scott meets your eyes, you nod. “Phosphors are reactants to the UV light, like that black light party last night.”

Stiles takes a sharp turn to the right upon arriving at the chemistry classroom. He hastily grabs a hold of the door knob, pulling it open as he shuffles backwards, continuing to explain himself to Scott. “And so that made me think of the chemistry closet and the fact that someone had to let Barrow in...”

Stiles words trail, and he suddenly halts to a stop. Brows furrowing in confusion, you turn your head to the chalkboard, your lips parting when you realize what Stiles has seen. The writing, the chemical compounds that had spelled out Kira’s name, has been erased.

Your face tenses in bewilderment, and you take a step back, lips parting. “It’s gone,” you whisper, meeting Stiles’ eyes in disbelief. “It’s gone... how... how can it be gone?”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles breathes, shuffling backwards as he pulls his keys out of his back pocket. “Doesn’t matter,” he dismisses, and you nod your head, moving to stand behind him as he turns to the chemistry closet. “I still have the key.”

Your reassurance soon dwindles when the sound of the chemistry closet unlocking never resonates. Instead, you continue to hear that jingle of keys until Stiles slowly turns back to face you and your brother, his gaze remaining stuck on his ring of keys as he hastily searches through them. “I had it here this morning,” you hear him mumble to himself. “I swear to God, I had it this morning.”

Shaking your head, you take a step forward, leaning over Stiles’ shoulder as you reach forward, looking through his keys yourself. Like Stiles says, it isn’t there anymore.

“I had it last night,” Stiles murmurs, turning to look at you. “Right? We came here and--”

You nod, without hesitation. “Yes, Stiles, you had it.”

“The key?” Scott questions, finally speaking up.

“Yeah, I showed it to you, right?” Stiles questions, “didn’t I show it to you?”

“No,” Scott mumbles with a slight shake of his head. “You just told me about it. I never actually saw it.”

“Well, I saw it,” you remind, meeting your brother’s gaze before it flickers back towards Stiles. “I did. I told you it had phosphors on it.”

Letting out a shaky breath, Stiles turns his attention back on the chalkboard, making his way over to it. “We were here a couple of hours ago,” he explains, gesturing towards you and himself. “And the message left to Barrow spelling Kira’s name was right there on the board in my handwriting and I had the key to the chemistry closet.”

“So you,” Scott speaks up, pointing towards Stiles. “Unlocked the chemistry closet so Barrow could hide in it from the cops and then you wrote him a message to kill Kira?”

Shaking your head, you run your hands through your hair, distressed.

“I know how it sounds,” Stiles whispers, his voice shaky. He blinks, and then, he pulls something out of his pocket -- a piece of paper. “But look at this. The news report that came out about Barrow when they caught him, okay? About the shrapnel bomb that he used.” He holds the paper out for Scott to see. “See this? See what he did? He put nuts, bolts and screws. And then he hid the bomb and the detonator in a box that he wrapped as a birthday present. What does that sound like to you?”

“Like coach,” you answer for Scott, your voice eerily quiet. “The joke you two played on coach.”

“That was my idea,” Stiles reminds. “You remember? That was my idea. That’s no coincidence. It can’t be.”

Scott stammers for a moment, “I... I don’t want to sound like i’m trying to tell you that you’re wrong. But I don’t think you’re trying to kill people either.”

“Scott’s right, okay?” You speak up, taking a step towards Stiles and meeting his eyes. Your gaze is sincere as you meet his, without a doubt of hesitance in you. “You wouldn’t kill anyone, or try to either.”

Shaking his head, Stiles turns back towards the chalkboard. “It was here. It was all here.”

“Dude, are you feeling okay?” Scott questions Stiles, “you’re looking really tired.”

“Yeah, i’m fine,” Stiles whispers, “I just haven’t been sleeping really...”

“Why don’t you go home?” You offer with a small smile. “Take a sick day or something.”

Stiles nods, albeit hesitantly. Taking that as your conformation, you take step forward, setting your hand on Stiles shoulders, pulling his eyes on you once more as you smile reassuringly up at him. “I can go with you,” you offer, hoping that it might give him some peace. “Make sure that you are able to get some sleep.”

“I need you here, Y/N.”

You blink at Scott’s words, turning to look at him with furrowed brows. He just shakes his head. “I just need you here, okay?” It’s clear that whatever’s the matter he doesn’t want to tell Stiles, obviously wanting the boy to go home and get, what seems like, some much needed sleep. You bite your tongue to keep yourself from arguing, hating the fact that you have to leave Stiles’ side when he clearly isn’t doing so well.

“Okay,” you nod reluctantly, “at least let me walk him to his car?”

Scott nods, and then, you’re leading Stiles out of the classroom, your hand slipping into his own.

-

“Magical ninja’s?”

“Yeah, they’re like magic... ninjas...”

With a heavy sigh, you rub your hands over your face in distress. This day seemed to just be getting worse and worse.

“And they’re after those supernatural?”

“Yup.”

“Which means you?”

“And you.”

You nod at Scott’s words, blinking as you turn your head over your shoulder. “And why are the twins following you everywhere?”

“We’ve already been marked by them,” Aiden explains, offering a tight-lipped smile your way. “Along with Derek, Lydia and Isaac. Which means, that leaves only you and Scott.”

Blinking, you raise a brow; “so?”

“We’re keeping him safe,” Ethan explains.

You snort, shaking your head. “This about you wanting to be in my brother’s pack?”

“It’s about keeping Scott safe,” Ethan dismisses your question. As his eyes meet yours, he pauses a moment, as if realizing; “and I guess, you too.”

“Oh,” you laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t need your protection. I can handle myself quite fine thank you.”

“Not against magical ninjas,” Aiden snaps.

You turn to Scott, who just helplessly shrugs.

“You’re not following me around,” you warn, turning back to face the two. “Scott might be fine with it--”

“--I’m not--”

“--But I don’t need you two following me around like lost puppies,” you continue, despite Scott’s interjection. “I don’t like either of you.”

“Well, we don’t like you either,” Aiden shrugs, sending you once again a feigned smile.

“Good,” you nod, pleased.

“Good.”

Turning your gaze forward, you offer a short wave Scott’s way, before turning towards your next class. You take your seat wordlessly, pulling out your books and setting them on your desk. When you’re all settled, it’s then you notice Aiden in the seat next to yours.

Almost instantly, you groan.

“What did I just tell you?” You huff, glaring at him.

“Didn’t say I was going to listen.”

-

Running into your house behind Derek, your eyes widen at the sight of your mother and father, backed away in a corner, your father limp on the ground. The growl that escapes past Derek’s lips barely registers within you as you see the bleeding wound on your father’s chest.

You’re struck with a feeling you haven’t felt towards your father in a long time. Concern.

It’s almost like time slows, and you meet your mother’s fleeting gaze for only a second as she lines the space before her with the mountain ash to protect herself and your father from the Oni. You can’t seem to move, almost like you’re stuck frozen in that one spot, hovering by your front door.

It isn’t until you hear Scott’s raspy and panicked voice call out for your name do you snap out of your stupor. You blink, meeting his eyes as he stares at something past your shoulder. The chaos around you seems to bleed into your attention as you spin around, coming face to face with what you assume Scott had called “magical ninjas”. And it’s after you.

Your eyes lower to it’s sword, watching as it takes a dangerous step towards you. Without a second thought, your eyes flash and you send it flying to your left, instantly moving away from your spot by the door and rushing over to where your father and mother are. In a instant, you feel the presence of the Oni from before and turning, you shoot your hand forwards, knocking it back once again.

It lunges towards you, whipping it’s sword out and you manage to duck just in time. Out of the corner of your eye you notice Derek, the twins and Scott inching the Oni’s back out the house, and it all clicks. Ducking once again to avoid a sword in your chest, you knock the Oni before you back, eventually sending it flying through the door you’d just entered from.

“Mom, do it! Now!”

Taking her chance, your mother leaps from her spot next to your father, mountain ash in hand. She chucks it to the ground, right by the door you’d just sent the Oni that had been attacking you through. After the cloud fades, a line of mountain ash stops the Oni before you from entering.

-

With haste, you kneel before your father, feeling helpless as you hover above him. 

You’d thought, long ago, that your father had seized to be someone important to you. After everything he’d done and was continuing to do, you believed yourself incapable of ever feeling concern towards him. And yet, now, as you hovered over his profusely bleeding wound, your hands shaking and your eyes wide, all you can feel is the immeasurable amount of terror that floods through your body.

“Daddy?”

You receive a grunt of response, causing your little head to peek past the wall of the stairs, only to find your father sprawled out on the floor by the couch. It almost looks like he just missed the couch itself, his chest rising and falling rapidly with a thick coat of sweat covering his forehead.

Even though you are young, you can tell that your father is not alright.

“Y/N,” Rafael calls, his voice slurred. “Is that you? Did I wake you?”

Stepping off the last step, you gather the courage to make your way over to your father. Your small feet pad against the hardwood floor as you narrowly miss the bit of puke just above where your father lies. He attempts to push himself up at the sight of you, only truly making it halfway so his back is leaning against the couch behind him. You stand before him, your hands clasped nervously before you as you stare down at your father.

You wonder, a distant thought in that back of your mind, if you should grab your mother. She would know what to do.

“I’m sorry,” you father whispers, and it’s hard to make out his words through the slur of them. When his breath hits you, your face twists at the smell that wavers off, taking a small step back.

“Why are you not in bed with mommy?”

“Daddy had a late night,” your father explains, his eyes heavy as they continue to fall shut. 

“Should I get mommy?”

“No, no,” your father is quick to oppose to the idea. His hand quickly raises, beckoning you forward as he continuously shakes his head. You listen to your fathers beckoning, moving so you’re sat before him, leaning onto him heavily as you envelop yourself in the warmth. The smell of his breath still causes your face to twist up in distaste, but you eventually become use to it. “Here, sit with me.”

You don’t say anything in response, and for a while silence is the only thing heard in the dead of the night.

You want to go back to bed. You want to crawl into your bunk bed that you share with your brother. You wonder why he gets to sleep through this while you have to deal with your father, sprawled out on the floor. Night and night again, he wakes you up with his thumping, and then keeps you there all night, burdening you with a lack of sleep for the day ahead of yourself.

“Daddy loves you, you know that?”

You nod your head, without hesitance.

“And he’s sorry.”

When you turn your head to look at him, tears are welling in his eyes. It isn’t long before they’re pouring across his cheeks. His hand raises, shaky, and he sets it on your smooth cheek.

“Why is daddy sorry?”

“Because he does terrible, terrible things.”

“Scott, this isn’t good!”

You blink, the memory fading.

In the next second, Scott is before you, falling next to Melissa as your father mumbles under his breath; “need to call for backup.”

“How bad is it?” Scott questions, his brows drawn in in concern.

Brushing strands of loose hair behind her ear, Melissa swallows thickly, preparing herself mentally. “From the way that his arm is rotated, the tendon looks torn,” she explains. As her words fall past her lips, your eyes fall on his arm, your fists clenched tightly. “He could be on his way to a collapsed lung.”

“Mom,” Scott calls with a shake of his head. “Those things, they’re not going to leave until the sun’s up.”

“At the rate he’s bleeding, he’s not gonna make it that long.”

You hate it. After everything, you hate the way your heart seems to plummet to the pit of your stomach. Why should you care if your father dies? It’s not like he’s ever been a father to you...

“Dad, please!”

His grip is tight, bruising. But if it wasn’t for his grip, you would’ve fallen off your own feet and fallen flat on your face. His speed is relentless, and he doesn’t seem to care that you’re barely able to keep up with it as he yanks you along, leading you into the living room.

The two of you are home alone. Your moms at the hospital, and Scott’s still at school -- your dad pulled you out early.

“Please, dad, it’s one bad grade! Scott gets bad grades all the time--!”

“But you are different,” your father bellows, finally letting go and spinning to face you. His eyes are blazing, filled with such rage you find yourself afraid -- even of your own father. You don’t understand why he’s so angry over such a little thing. It was a bad grade. You’re only in the fourth grade anyway... “You are suppose to be different. Better.”

“I don’t understand...”

The words leave your lips in a whisper, filled with utter bafflement.

“Useless,” your father hiss, turning away from you in a haste. “Utterly useless.”

“Father, plea-”

Your words are interrupted by a sharp sting across the cheek. It causes you to stumble back, your hand instantly falling to you cheek in disbelief as your eyes flicker upwards to meet that of your father’s.

You tell yourself that he doesn’t mean it. That even though this isn’t the first time he’s ever hit you, that it isn’t because he means it. Or because he doesn’t love you. He’s drunk. Not in his right mind. Not thinking clearly. If your dads job wasn’t as hard and he drank less, than he wouldn’t hit you. Ever.

Yet, the sting won’t fade and you can’t stop the tears from filling in your eyes as you father stares down at you, his hand raised as if to hit you again.

“You are better than this.”

You don’t say a word. You don’t want another slap.

“You will be better than this.”

“We got to get him to a hospital.”

Never had he been a father to you.

“Should we call Stiles’ dad?”

“I don’t know,” Melissa breathes, “is that going to just get more people hurt?”

“Maybe,” Scott sighs, his face tensing in distress. “I don’t think bullets work on them.”

“Then what does?”

-

“Guys. We have a problem.”

Raising your head, you turn to look at the open doorway in front of you, your eyes widening when you realizing why Ethan sounds as apprehensive as he does.

The two Oni you’d locked out through the use of mountain ash, seemed to be, somehow, pushing their way past the barrier.

-

“Scott, we’re gonna have to do something.”

As if Derek’s words are a trigger, the second he finishes speaking them, the Oni before you break the barrier. They step through, swords at the ready, and you shuffle on your feet, readying yourself for what’s to come.

“Don’t do anything.”

You blink, your head whipping around to turn to look at your brother with narrowed eyes. “Scott?”

“Is he serious?” Aiden questions, disbelief flooding his voice.

“I said don’t do anything.”

“Scott,” you call once again, taking a step towards him. “What are you talking about?”

Meeting your eyes, Scott nods. “It’ll be okay,” he assures, setting his hand on your shoulder. “They won’t hurt you, or me,” he then pauses, turning his head over his shoulder to look at Kira who’s stood behind the two of you. Holding his hand out towards her, he nods his head. “Or you.”

Hesitantly, she sets her hand in Scott’s, grasping it.

“Trust me.”

Before you know it the two are stepping towards the Oni, and you find your feet moving, almost of their own accord, following after them. You pass by Derek, who grabs a hold of your wrist hastily, pulling your eyes on his. His gaze is flooded with concern and apprehension, obviously not believing this to be a good idea. You have your own doubts, but you trust Scott, just like you always have.

So, with a simple nod Derek’s way, you pull your wrist out of his grasp and fall to a stop next to your brother.

The three Oni lined up before you all take steps towards the three of you, and you inhale sharply when the one in front of you raises it’s hand, grasping the back of your head. A gasp leaves your lips as it does so, your eyes slowly zoning in on it’s yellow glowing eyes that seem to entrance you, beckoning your every whim to it. You’re forced down to your knees, something of which you do not struggle against, your eyes never leaving its.

Your body becomes rigid cold. Your muscles tense and you’re unable to move anything at all until the Oni tilts it’s head to right, your own following, as if mimicking it. As it straightens it’s head out, your own following, your eyes never leaving it’s, there’s a sharp pain on the left side of your head, right behind your ear before your body falls to the ground with a thud.

Your eyes feel heavy, and you let them shut for a moment before finally gaining the strength to raise your hand and touch that same exact spot behind your ear.

Then, there are hands on your shoulders, pulling you back and meeting Derek’s eyes who hovers above you. “You’re gonna be okay,” he reassures you, helping pull you up slightly. “You’re gonna be fine.”

-

“Stiles!”

With an airy laugh of relief, you find your feet moving before your mind even registers the fact. Before you know it, you’re wrapping your arms around Stiles’ shoulders, pulling him close. You forget for a moment that Scott is stood behind the two of you, watching, as a wide smile falls on your lips.

After only a moment of hesitance, one that strikes you as odd but you don’t comment upon, Stiles returns your embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist.

As you pull back, briefly glancing back at your brother before returning your gaze on Stiles, you smile up at the boy. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, you shifting in his grip slightly so you’re beside him. “I’m fine. What’s been going on?”

-

Gasping, your eyes snap open, your heart racing.

Something’s wrong. Something feels wrong.

Your mind whirls, your blanket being flipped off of you with haste as you push yourself onto your feet. It’s on the tip of your tongue, your body tensing as you think. Think. Something’s out of place, but what? As you stand there, your head snapping every which way, staring at every corner of your room as your heart won’t stop racing, pounding against your chest, it finally clicks.

Scott. Something’s wrong with Scott.

You turn to your door, yanking it open without a care in the world as you take a sharp turn to the left, It only takes you practically a minute to reach Scott’s room and you don’t bother knocking, unable to handle the feeling of panic and fear and uncertainty that won’t stop terrorizing your body as you practically run inside.

He’s awake, his phone pressed against his ear as he stumbles over his own two feet. His breath is heavy, chest rising and falling much like your own. Upon seeing him, the feelings that rush through your mind slowly start to make sense, but they don’t fade. They won’t go away. After a moment, you’re able to focus onto the words he’s saying. “What? No, hey, wait… Hold on, Stiles wait…”

Stiles? What’s wrong with Stiles?

“Scott,” you call, your voice pitching as you take a step forward. Scott can’t seem to focus on you, his eyes wander every which way and it almost looks like his knees are about to give out from beneath him. He clambers over to his dresser and with haste, you force your own muscles to move, stumbling towards him and grasping him by the shoulders. “Scott,” you call once again, meeting his eyes. “What’s wrong? What’s happening? Where’s Stiles?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. He–”

You gasp, a sudden flood of fear overwhelming you. It pierces you, like a knife to the chest, as your own fear mixes with another and it becomes unbearable. Your eyes snap to your hand on Scott’s shoulder, and you yank your hand away, clutching it to your chest. For a moment, the two of you just stand there, hearts pounding and out of breath.

It’s Scott who breaks the silence. “Stiles is somewhere, and… and he needs me to find him. We need to find him.”

You don’t reply. You can’t find the words to reply.

Turning on the lamp on his dresser, Scott opens his drawer, pulling out a flannel. “Isaac!” He bellows, causing you to blink as you take a step back. “Isaac, get up!”

You can’t focus on anything. It feels like your heart is literally about to leap out of your throat. Stiles… you can’t even seem to think the words without the worry becoming too much.

“I need your help! Isaac!”

Isaac bursts through the door in that exact moment. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Passing him the extra helmet, Scott closes his dresser drawer. “It’s Stiles. Get dressed.”

“Stiles?” Isaac questions, his brows furrowing in confusion. “What’s wrong with Stiles?”

“…I don’t know.”

Before you know it, the two of them are dressed and barreling down the stairs. You’re quick to follow after them, unable to think clearly as you grab a hold of Scott’s wrist tightly before the two of them can walk out the front door. “I’m coming with you,” you demand with haste, your brows furrowing as you shake your head. “You can’t just expect me to stay here if Stiles’ is in danger.”

“There’s not enough room on my bike,” Scott breathes, shaking his head in return. “Nor do we have enough time. Stay here until we find out more. I’ll call you the second I find out anything.”

Scott pulls his wrist from your grasp before you can say anything more, pushing past Isaac out the door.

“Scott–!”

Your words fall on deaf ears as he rushes over to his bike. You halt by the front door, your wide and teary eyes falling on Isaac who stares down at you in pity. He says nothing but gives you a saddened look, following after Scott a minute later. You watch the two of them hop on Scott’s bike, driving off and leaving you to wait there helplessly.

You don’t hear your mother come running down the stairs or your name leave her lips as you watch Scott and Isaac fade into the distance, your shoulders falling with defeat.

-

You weren’t about to stand around doing nothing. That wasn’t you, and when it came to those you cared about, you would never sit back and hope that they stayed and remained safe. You would make sure that they were safe, at whatever cost.

So, the moment you snapped out of your stupor and Scott and Isaac were completely out of sight, you got dressed and borrowed your mother’s car to head over to Stiles’. Melissa had tried to get you to stay, desperate for you to explain the entirety of the situation to her, but you wouldn’t listen. You merely told her that Stiles was missing, and he’d called Scott in a panic. 

You imagined, or rather hoped, that there might be some clue that could help you understand where Stiles went or if someone had taken him, and where in his room. And while going to his room didn’t necessarily give you the information that you wanted, it certainly wasn’t unhelpful.

Staring at the red strings before you, all attached to the ceiling, you try to make sense of it. It has to make sense. 

You’re pulled from the thoughts at the sound of Stiles’ bedroom door opening. Turning your head over your shoulder, your eyes widen when you find Lydia and Aiden stood in front of you, both who halt to a stop in front of you. It’s obvious that they hadn’t expected to see you here either, if their expressions are anything to go by. You shake your head, eyes narrowing; “how did yo--”

“I heard this-this noise,” Lydia explains, her face tensing as she tries to explain what she means to the best of her ability, and it clicks. Given that she’s a banshee, the fact that she might of felt something or heard something was wrong probably shouldn’t have surprised you. But it also didn’t make you feel any better either -- when it came to Lydia’s powers, it usually ended in death.

Aiden softly shuts the door behind him, as Lydia takes a step towards you. “What are you doing here?’

With your hands against your chest, you turn your attention back towards Stiles’ bed, your shoulders falling. “Stiles called Scott,” you begin, biting your lip in worry. “I... felt something was wrong and before I could even really ask anything, Scott was out of the door with Isaac, going to search for Stiles.” Meeting Lydia’s eyes once again, you shrug helplessly. “I haven’t heard anything yet.”

Lydia nods, just as Aiden falls by her side. “What is this suppose to mea-”

Aiden is interrupted by, once again, the sound of Stiles’ bedroom door flying open. The three of you turn, your eyes meeting Scott’s as his eyes widen at the sight of Lydia and Aiden. “How did you know?” He questions, without any hesitance. “Did he call you too?”

Lydia shakes her head; “I heard it.”

“Don’t ask,” Aiden sighs, “it gets more confusing when you ask.”

“I doubt it’s anymore confusing then this,” you sigh, gesturing towards Stiles bed. All the red strings of yarn, that Stiles had once told you meant those of your cases that were unsolved, were tacked to the ceiling and wrapped around a pair of scissors which had been stabbed into the mattress of his bed. “He uses red for unsolved cases,” you add, turning back to your friends.

“Maybe he thinks he’s part of an unsolved case?” Aiden offers.

“Or is an unsolved case,” Isaac adds, and you shake your head, unable to stop the nerves that flood your entire being.

“Wait,” you call, shaking your head. “That means you didn’t find him? You have no idea where he is?”

Scott swallows thickly; “he said he was in an industrial basement somewhere.”

“We came here to get a better scent,” Isaac explains.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Something’s wrong with his leg,” Scott answers, his face tensing in concern. “It’s bleeding.”

“And he’s freezing.”

“Tonight’s the coldest night of the year,” Aiden reminds. With each second that pasts and you find out more information, you feel yourself lose more and more hope that you’ll find Stiles. “It’s going to drop into the twenties.”

“Okay,” you breathe, voice quiet. “What did his dad say?”

Scott shuffles on his feet, clenching his fists nervously as he avoids your gaze. “We kind of... we didn’t tell him yet.”

“Stiles is bleeding and freezing and you didn’t call his dad?” You screech, your eyes widening in disbelief.

Shaking his head, Scott’s voice is quiet; “he made me promise not to. We can find him by scent.” Your eyes fall shut at Scott’s reasoning, your heart pounding erratically against your chest. “If he was sleepwalking he couldn’t have gotten far, right?”

“You didn’t notice his jeep is gone, did you?”

Shaking your head, you pull your phone out of your back pocket. “You promised him you wouldn’t call his dad,” you mumble, already typing in Noah’s phone number. “I didn’t.”

“Wait, Y/N,” Scott calls, setting his hand over your own. “Hold on. I can get more help. I can call Derek, Allison...”

“Everyone except for the cops,” Lydia interrupts, her voice pitching. “Great idea.”

“You guys remember she only gets these feelings when someone’s about to die, right?”

“Scott,” you whisper, pulling his eyes on you. “We have to call his dad.”

“We don’t have to call him,” Scott dismisses, shaking his head. “It’s five minutes to the station.”

Taking a step forward, you fall by Isaac’s side, maneuvering your way through Stiles’ door before Lydia’s words causes you to halt.

“We’ll catch up,” she explains, her hand pressed against Aiden’s chest to stop him from following after the three of you.

“What?” Scott asks, shaking his head. “Why?”

“There is something here,” Lydia explains.

“Yeah,” Isaac nods, “evidence of total insanity.”

“Isaac,” you hiss, glaring up at him. Meeting your eyes, Isaac offers an apologetic look your way as you shake your head.

“We can figure out what’s with him after we find a way to keep him from freezing to death,” Scott dismisses, and you nod to his words.

“Go,” Lydia encourages, nodding her head reassuringly. “We’ll be right behind you.”

-

With respect, you remain silent. But you can’t help but feel your heart lurch in pity as it takes every ounce of Noah’s strength to remain strong in front of you and your friends and his fellow officers at the news that his son is missing and none of you have any leads.

“If his jeep is missing, that’s where we start.”

Stood slightly behind Scott, to the right of Isaac, you meet the latter’s eyes briefly before refocusing on Sheriff Stilinski before you. He shifts slightly, straightening out as he turns to the deputy sat in the desk beside him. “Parrish,” he calls, “let’s get an APB out on a blue nineteen-eighty CJ-5 jeep.” Said deputy wastes no time doing so as Noah turns to another officer. “Cordova, I want a list of any kind of industrial basement or sub-level of any building that he could’ve gotten into while sleepwalking. It’s the coldest night of the year so far. So if he’s out there barefoot, in just a t-shirt, he could already be hypothermic. Let’s move fast. Let’s think fast.”

You raise your head as Noah turns to the three of you. “The three of you, come with me.”

You, Scott and Isaac waste no time following Stiles’ dad into his office, turning to him as he shuts the door behind you all. The moment he’s finished, he turns to you in return. “Okay. Is there anything you need to tell me that I can’t tell anyone out there?”

“Lydia knew he was missing,” Scott explains, shuffling on his feet slightly. 

“Can she help find him?”

“Well, she’s working on it.”

“Anything else?” Noah questions.

“We called Derek and Allison for help,” you add, hoping that it might help.

Sighing, Noah takes a step forward; “can you find him by scent?”

Before either Isaac and Scott can answer, the sound of knocking interrupts as Parrish invites himself into the office. “We got it, sir. We found the jeep.”

-

“He’s not here. Not anymore.”

“You mean the whole building?”

“Gone.”

Rubbing your hands across your face in distress, you shake your head.

“I’ll go tell Stilinski,” Isaac offers, inching towards the door the three of you just entered from.

Scott is quick to turn towards him; “and see if you can find Allison. She’s not answering her phone.”

Isaac nods, and in the next second, he’s picking up the pace in his step, running back the way you came. You meet Scott’s eyes briefly before the two of you jog over to where Derek’s stood. You turn to the two of them as they seem to fall silent for a moment, before Derek speaks up; “notice how strong the scent is up here? Ever hear of chemo signals?”

Shaking your head, you cross your arms over your chest; “what are they?”

“Chemical signals that communicate emotion,” Derek explains, meeting your eyes. “And just our sweat can give off anger, fear or disgust. Take a deep breath, tell me what you feel.”

You turn to Scott at his instructions, unable to stop yourself from asking; “Scott?”

“Stress,” he answers, opening up his eyes.

“And anxiety,” Derek adds.

“What was he doing up here?” You question, gazing around in wonder.

“I don’t know,” Derek sighs, shaking his head. “But there was definitely some kind of struggle.”

“With who?”

“Himself.”

-

“Stiles?”

You don’t bother paying attention to your surroundings before you’re making your way down the stairs, practically sprinting down them. The second you reach the bottom of them, your eyes wander rapidly across the room, trying to search for even just the slightest sight of Stiles anywhere.

Lydia believes he was in Eichen House, a mental institute. And your heart welled up with hope at the chance that she might be right. She’d never been wrong before when it came to her feelings and assumptions, and you prayed to God that this time wasn’t any different.

But as your eyes wander across the entire room for the second time and still, no Stiles, you worry that maybe it was.

“Stiles...?”

Breathless, Scott shuffles over to Scott, his hands held out beside him in desperation. “Lydia?”

Panting, Lydia looks around, shaking her head. She hesitates before responding, her voice barely audible when she does. “I don’t get it,” she whispers, shoulders falling in defeat. “This has to be it.”

“Then where is he, huh?”

Your eyes fall shut at the sound of Noah’s voice. Clenching your fists, you keep your own disappointment and terror to yourself as you can the tension rise within the small room you’re all huddled in. You don’t necessarily blame Noah as you feel his anger and frustration double, but you also know that Lydia had only done the best she could -- and that she truly believed Stiles was here. Or else she wouldn’t of brought you all here in the first place.

“Where is he? Where is he?” You flinch as he voice pitches in anger towards the end, shoulders tensing.

After a moment of echoed silence, Noah sighs; “i’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand...”

You hear their fleeting footsteps, but hesitate on following them. Something feels wrong. Somethings tells you, deep down, that Lydia wasn’t wrong. That there was no way she could be wrong and Stiles is here... or at least, he was...

A hand falling on your shoulder is what pulls you from your thoughts.

“Y/N,” Scott whispers, pulling your eyes on his. “Come on.”

Biting your lip, you shoulders fall as you let your gaze once again wander across the room. It just doesn’t feel right.

But then Scott’s hand in slipping into your own, and he’s gently pulling you in the direction of the door, back up the stairs you’d just gone barreling down and you don’t fight his pull. Instead, you follow after him, your movements slow and sluggish in reluctance.

He had to have been here.

-

“Y/N!”

You ignore your mother’s voice screaming after you, letting the front door shut harshly behind yourself as you grip your cheek, your eyes narrowing in distress at the stinging sensation that doesn’t fade.

You can’t help the tears that well up in your eyes and eventually pool over your cheeks, your feet never slow as you race towards a destination unknown. All you knew was that you had to get out of there and quick. No longer could you just stand there and take it, the bruises that littered your body over simple mistakes that didn’t deserve the punishment you received.

And he’d always done it behind closed doors. So no one knew. And yet, today, your mother had stood there with tears in her eyes and her voice raw as your father raised his hand towards you. You didn’t blame your mom, no, but if your father was no longer afraid to do it front of others, that meant it was getting worse. That he no longer could think rationally enough to know it was wrong.

The alcohol had poisoned his mind and turned him into a man unrecognizable to you.

It didn’t occur to you that you would eventually return -- that you couldn’t spend your days running forever. Eventually, and probably sooner than you would’ve liked, you would have to go back home and face what you just ran away from. But you didn’t care then as you ran. You didn’t understand why he took all his anger out on you. Why you had to suffer while your brother carried on, clueless to what you barred.

While you would never wish your brother to suffer what you did, you hated that you had to suffer alone.

“Y/N?”

You halt, your feet slowing to a stop. You know that voice.

“Stiles?”

You turn, slowly and apprehensively, your eyes widen at the sight of Stiles stood before you. He was your brother’s best friend, and because the two of them spent so much time together, you’d gotten to know him quite well yourself. The two of you were nothing more than friends, and certainly couldn’t be considered as close as him and your brother -- that’s why you hate that he’s the one you run into. It’s obvious something is wrong by the tears streaming down your cheeks, and no amount of lying is going to deter Stiles from the truth.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles’ questions, his eyes narrowing as he takes a step towards. “Why are you crying?”

“It’s fine,” you dismiss, turning away from Stiles. That only hurts you in the end as you hiss loudly at the stinging that radiates through your body, flooding from your left hip. Stiles catches the expression easily enough, and it causes him to quicken his step, rushing over to you. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

His voice seems panicked, and he hastily reaches out for you, turning you towards him as he gazes at you with wide eyes.

It’s then that he sees the bruise on your cheek, faintly in the shape of a hand and Stiles’ lips part. He reaches out, gently pulling your hand away as he goes to touch it. “Who did that to you?” He questions, brows furrowing. “Come on, I was just about to go see Scott. We have to tell your parents--”

“No!”

Stiles blinks at your bellow, his head jerking back in surprise.

Flushing in embarrassment, you shake your head; “no,” you repeat, albeit softer. “I’m not going back there.”

Stiles shakes his head; “they can help you. Y/N, why wouldn’t you...” It’s as if something clicks in his head. You watch Stiles’ eyes widen as realization floods him. His hands fall limply by his side, disbelief flooding him. “Y/N, did... your parents do this to you?”

You swallow thickly, shaking your head slightly. But it’s pitiful, and you know Stiles doesn’t believe you.

“Your dad?”

Your silence is all the answer he needs.

“I... We... My dad can help you. He’s a cop. We can tell him--”

“No,” you interrupt once again. “We can’t tell anyone,” you argue, shaking your head at Stiles. “Stiles, my dad... he... he’s drunk, he doesn’t mean it. He never means it. Once he stops drinking, it’ll stop.”

“Y/N--”

“Please.”

Stiles’ words fall short at your plea, finally registering the desperation in your eyes as you sniffle before him. The tears haven’t stopped falling down your cheeks and by the way you’re shaking, it’s clear you’re scared -- more than scared, terrified.

Stiles has the strong urge to protect you in that moment. To not let you out of his sights in fear that you’ll only be caused more pain.

“It’ll be okay,” Stiles eventually says, raising his hands once more and this time wrapping them around you. You’re shocked at first, this being the closest you’ve ever been to Stiles. But don’t fight the embrace, falling into his warmth. “I promise.”

-

“I’ll be out in a second, okay?”

Scott nods, his gaze hovering on Stiles for a moment longer before he turns, heading out of the room after your mom and Noah.

Silence envelops the area as it’s just you and Stiles left in the room. Your eyes flicker across the MRI scanner next to you, before they wander back over to Stiles who is sat upon it. While you’d watched Scott talk to Stiles, you wondered for a long time what you should say to Stiles yourself, or if... you should say anything at all.

But after everything that has happened and the absolute terror of not knowing where Stiles was or if he was okay, you couldn’t just not say anything.

Yet now, stood before him, you’re silent. There was so much you wanted to say, and now, they seemed lost, your mind blank. Your shoulders and heart felt heavy with the weight of the reality that things were more than just bad. That Stiles could have the same disease his mother had, and the thought of it makes you feel like your heart is being ripped to shreds.

It crushes you.

Then, Stiles’s hand falls on your own and you gasp softly at the sudden contact. You raise your head, meeting his eyes as Stiles slowly maneuvers his hand so it’s not just on yours but rather grasping your own. He grips it tightly, as if it’s the last thing giving him strength and you feel your eyes water in response. “Stiles...” His name leaves your lips in a whisper, barely audible. “I-”

Your words halt as Stiles moves his hand to cup your cheek, causing you to still in surprise. Stiles, in that moment, doesn’t seem to care that his father and your mother as well as the doctor, are all stood in the viewing room watching the two of you as he pulls you close. He presses his lips against your own, and you feel your eyes flutter shut in response.

The kiss is short but it gives you the reassurance you both need as you pull away. Before you can pull away too far, however, Stiles rests his forehead against your own. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

The words are meant as encouragement -- reassurance, and yet, they break your heart. No matter the situation, it always seems to be Stiles giving you the strength to carry on, even when it’s his life and body that’s in danger. Reassuring you that it’ll all be alright instead of the other way around, like it should be.

He whispers those words. Those five simple words like he always does.

You nod, despite the guilt that floods you, and squeeze his hand tightly one more time before stepping away. Your gaze lingers on his own a moment longer before turning towards the door, opening it and letting it fall shut behind you.

You keep your gaze lowered as you make your way into the hallway, your heart heavy.

-

You blink, raising your head towards the ceiling as the light flickers. Your hear the faint sound of electricity sparkling, causing you to push yourself off the wall by the door to the MRI room, taking a sharp turn to the right, opening the door to the waiting room. 

Melissa, Noah and the doctor in there turn to you upon your sudden entrance as you shake your head at them.

“What was that?”

“It sounded like a power surge.”

Your eyes flicker to the left, your eyes widen when you find Stiles missing. Instantly, you rush over to the viewing window, gripping the edge of it tightly. “Where’s Stiles?”

“Huh?”

“Stiles is missing.”

-

Part 22?

Let me know what you thought!

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[exo-can]

Growing Pains: I Miss You

A collection inspired by Adele’s album 25

Order: 1) When We Were Young 3)River Lea 4)Send My Love (To Your New Lover)

WARNING: Language, some soft smut (rare i know lol)

gif originally posted by @vanillalattaes

A/N: Although its not required, i would recommend reading this series in the order i release them as im doing it in a sort of star wars fashion lol. It won’t affect you storyline wise though if you choose to read this one first (: enjoy my lovlies

     The room felt as suffocatingly tense as it was quiet. The only reprieve from the silence being a small cough or the frustrated tapping of a pencil once in a while. Desperately, you willed yourself to ignore it, eyes determined to remain on your page, as though staring at the blank space was going to will the answer to simply appear. Why the fuck did I listen to the counsellor and take this course? Your pupils flitted over the question again, as though you had expected to find some hint to the answer. I wanted a publishing internship, not a crash course on how music affects literature!

    Exactly one month ago, on this very day, you signed over your sanity by signing up for this Theory and Analysis class. To be fair, you didn't think that examining a few notes and a poem here and there would be too hard. In fact, you’d even called it a cake walk. Boy, oh boy, were you ever wrong. The knowledge that you would have been able to get the internship was in the back of your mind; you were a good student with a strong GPA. Yet, you still wanted something to give you even the slightest edge over your competitors, which is when the school course advisor suggested this. You had agreed at the time. After all, so many authors now were also musicians, so it could give you a connection or even an insight to their work that perhaps other interns might not have. Now, you wholeheartedly regretted that decision.

    Sighing, you slumped into your chair which made a loud squeak. Heads whipped in your direction, icy glares making you sink lower, mouthing a silent ‘sorry.’ Once your peers turned back around you sighed once more, rubbing your fingertips into the temples of your skull, making it look to anyone who glanced at you like you were meditating in your seat. C’mon, Y/N, an internal peptalk starting in your head, You’re not gonna let this ruin your GPA. Schumann, Schumann, Schumann… or was it Schubert? Motherfu-- You could feel your forehead wrinkling in concentration, when a small snicker snapped you out of your trance. Knowing exactly who it came from, your eyes squinted at Taehyung, who was in the desk beside you, menacingly. Lifting your hand, you raised your most favourite finger at the moment, Taehyung only grinning at you like a child in response before turning back to his own test. Rolling your eyes, you were about to do the same, when your vision was halted on a head of black hair just past Taehyung.

    You didn't know him personally, only through mutual friends. Honestly, you’d never even really spoken to him. You only knew what you heard, which was a fair amount. His name was Min Yoongi. He was a music major, but you didn't really know whether he composed or played. That wasn’t really what the other girls liked to discuss. The seemingly much more interesting topic was his love life. Yoongi was good looking, it was no secret. There was something so interesting about his sharp features and cat-like eyes. Even you had to admit it, staring at his face from three desks down like the creepiest person in existence. But he was also known to dine and dash, so to speak. There were a good amount of girls who claimed to have slept with him, but never had anyone seen him actually with someone beyond one night, so it was widely disputed whether they ever actually had slept together. However, there was one detail that remained the same with every girl; he never contacted or even spoke to any of them after. Looking at him now, you didn't really think someone like him could be that cruel. Someone who was close with your new-found friend, Taehyung, could never be. Taehyung was one of the most kind hearted people you’d ever met, despite the teasing.

    Normally, these sorts of traits were a bit of a turn off for you; most guys who falled into the category he was described as all ended up being the same. And ultimately boring. You’d played that game before and had long since grown tired of it. Yet as you scanned his profile, you mused that maybe you wouldn’t mind dealing yourself in once more to relieve pent up stress, if nothing else.

    Taehyung knew him personally, so you knew it would only be a matter of time before you were introduced. Placing your head in your palm, your rested your elbow on your desk. Distantly, you wondered what kind of person he would actually turn out to be. His fingers deftly swiped his pencil back and forth on his paper. You couldn’t read exactly what he wrote, but you were surprised at how full his page his was, only infringing a slight amount of guilt on you for neglecting your own test. Watching, you admired how nimble, yet thin his hands were. Long fingers gripped the pencil strong enough that the veins in his hand could be seen, when suddenly they stopped their movements. Your eyes traveled back up his frame, only to meet his own curious ones. Immediately you snatched your gaze away, your head practically flying out of your palm in sheer panic. Reaching your fingers out to grab your own pencil far too hastily, it clattered to the floor deafeningly. Heads all turning back to you, each person seemed to be sending you telepathic prayers that your would just mysteriously disappear for disturbing them once more. The floor was the only thing you could safely look at as your cheeks flushed red and you dived for your pencil. Retrieving it you immediately hid your tomato face behind your hands with your elbows on the desk and stared down at your paper with more focus than ever. Unable to look, you could hear the other students turning back around in their seats resentfully as you shook your head at your own embarrassment. Such. An. Idiot.

    “So, Yoongi said something to me the other day.” The coffee in your mouth suddenly tasted bitter despite the disgusting amount of sugar and caramel syrup in it.

    Struggling to avoid spitting the liquid all over the pavement as you walked beside Taehyung, you attempted to compose yourself though the incident from last week surged to the forefront of your mind. Humiliation resurfacing and panic setting in because there was absolutely no way in hell Taehyung would ever let you live this down. Patting your chest and then sticking out your tongue as though the drink had burned your tongue after you swallowed. When you finally replied, your voice was thick with the attempt to feign innocence. “Oh? About?”

    “You.” Your heart felt like it was falling through the floor.

    “Really? What did he say?” You replied, despite knowing you were most likely caught and were about to face a face full of ridicule that would last until graduation in 4 years.

    “He kinda just asked who you were, seeing as we’ve been attached at the hip since orientation.” A glimmer of hope shined on the horizon. “To be honest, I thought he was gonna ask if you had some sort of condition because of all the drool pouring out of your mouth last week.”

    And there it went. “You saw?!”

    “Pretty sure the whole class did, Y/N.” He simpered when you batted him with your free arm.

    “Ass,” you muttered into the lid of your coffee.

    “It’s okay if you have a crush on him. He’s a good guy, for the most part.” Taehyung commented, his last addition perking your interest. What does that mean? “Besides, I maybe, sorta, have a little thing for your friend…”

    “Haerin?” You looked at him, puzzled seeing as they’d met all of one time and it was very brief. Sheepishly, he shook his head and it dawned on you, pausing mid step on the sidewalk. “Wait, Luna?!”

    Rolling his eyes, he didn’t slow his pace, forcing you to jog forward to keep up once the initial shock wore off.

    “You do know she’s head over heels for her boyfriend, right?” He nodded, a scowl on his face. “And that they’ve been together for nearly two years?”

    “Yes, Y/N.” His voice was slightly aggravated. “It’s a crush. It’s not like i'm going to propose.”

    A twinge of unease poked at your stomach as you realized you weren't exactly being supportive. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed when nothing comes from it, Tae.”

    The corner of his mouth turned upwards and he patted your shoulder. “Don’t worry, I know there's not really a chance of anything happening.” His grin grew in size, mischief brewing beneath his irises. “You, on the other hand, have some hope. Which would be why I invited Yoongi to the library with us.”

    Once again, you halted in your steps, mortified at what your friend had done. “You did what?!”

    “Would you stop doing that?” Taking two steps back, he gripped your arm and pulled you forward. “For one, you’re going to spill coffee all over yourself. Second, he’s waiting for us.”

    “I hate you.”

    “Yeah, yeah.” He giggled as he let his grip on your arm go.

    “Seriously, Tae.” You whined. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m going home.”

    “No, you aren’t.” He shook his head. “He’s already seen you.”

    Snapping your eyes in the direction which Taehyung was now waving, you spotted him. Leaning against the railing of the steps to the old campus library, he looked cosy. Bundled in a gray scarf and a long, black, tweed coat, you could see a tinge of rouge powdering his nose from the chill October air. Pulling a hand out of his pocket, he gave a wave back before delving the limb back into his pocket in search of warmth.  His face is a little puffy in the morning, you remarked. Cute. Eyes twitched over to you, a new flush of red dusting your own cheeks at being caught staring once again. Averting your eyes to the tops of your shoes, a weird pulling sensation made your insides squirm.

    Steeling your nerves, you did your best to at least appear composed as the gap between you and Yoongi dwindled. By the time you reached him, your internal panic levels had reduced a little, though you still felt like bolting in the opposite direction to avoid the imminent awkwardness. Playing with the lid of your coffee, your shoes scuffed to a stop once Taehyung did the same. Letting your eyes drift upward, it came as a surprise to find him being the one staring for a change, though he made no move to conceal it. You did your best to read him, but it was to no avail, his face remaining as stoic as ever. It was Taehyung who was the first to speak, a knowing grin on his face as he drew the pair of your’s attention away from one another. “Y/N, this is Yoongi.”

    A self-conscious smile flashed across your lips as you murmured a short, “Hey.”

    “Hey,” Yoongi’s sultry tone took you off guard; you didn’t expect someone like him to have such a deep, raspy voice.

    “You look tired.” Taehyung interjected.

    Yoongi scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I was up a little late last night.”

    “Aw shit I forgot, your project was due this morning right?” Taehyung replied apologetically, to which his friend nodded. “You didn’t have to come! We could’ve done this later.”

    “No, that’s okay.” His dark irises fluttered to you briefly. “I wanted to.”

    “Right.” Taehyung smirked, brushing past Yoongi to the steps that lead to the library. “Let’s go then.”

    Following behind, you walked up the steps to the door, Yoongi taking up the rear. Taehyung didn’t bother to hold the door for you, forcing you to reach out to catch it with a flash of annoyance. “Hey!”

    Taehyung snickered as people immediately shushed you, a blush fanning across your cheeks for letting him goad you. Whispering under your breath, you commented on your friends child like antics, “Dick.”

    A breathless laugh came from behind you. Sneaking a glance back, Yoongi’s eyes were reduced to slivers, his cheeks higher from hiding a grin in the depths of his scarf. Weaving through the library, you did your best to quell the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Your efforts not doing much as frustration took hold at how he’d barely even said a word, but somehow made you feel like you were back in highschool, pining for some guy. Never one to fall fast, it was odd for you to feel this nervous around a guy. You weren't a stranger to hookups, but a part of you wondered if it was just because it had been a little while.

    Brushing the thoughts away, you focus on not hitting one of the various tables as Taehyung led you into one of the group study rooms where talking was permitted. Yoongi was the last to enter, closing the door softly behind him. Setting your half-empty drink on the table, you shrugged your backpack off along with your jacket. Thank god, you’d decided that your comfiest sweatpants and sweater were a bit too musky to wear in public. Settling into your chair, you unloaded your books as Taehyung sat across from you and placed his things on the chair beside him, leaving the one beside you the only chair left for Yoongi to take. He didn’t seem at all fazed though, barely batting an eye at Taehyung's obviousness as he took up the place beside you. Taking off his coat and scarf, he opted to keep the beanie on, which you didn’t mind at all as he looked like a walking-talking advertisement for it. His black hair poked out the front and sides, a glimmer of an earring catching your eye. Shaking your head you averted your gaze to your book, forcing yourself to read the text. I’m starting to understand why these girls rave about him….

    “Y/N?” Taehyung snapped you out of your reverie, “you aren’t going to study our theory class?”

    “No. I’ve been studying that all week.” You replied, defeated. “I’m pretty sure that my head is actually going to explode if I do.”

    “Fair,” Taehyung chuckled. “I just thought maybe you’d wanna ask Yoongi for some help seeing as how great your last test went.”

    Quirking your head, you said, “I’m sure he has his own stuff too; I don't wanna unload on anyone--”

    “He got 93 percent on the test.”

    Your head immediately turned to the side, mouth slightly agape. You never knew he got such good grades; it wasn’t exactly something people talked about. He looked a little unnerved by your reaction, “I don’t mind--”

    “Please.” You cut him off, nearly facepalming at your lack of tact. “I mean, if you don’t mind, could you please help me? Only if you have the time though. Again, I don’t wanna cause you any trouble--”

    “Y/N,” The sound of your name leaving his lips made your stomach flip. “It’s no bother; it helps me study it too.”

    The sun had just began to descend when Taehyung had left the two of you to your own devices, though you didn't really notice. On the exterior, Yoongi seemed like a gruff sort of person, but as he started teaching you, you found out that wasn't at all the case. He went through notes and old tests so patiently with you, never complaining when you got a question wrong even if it was the fourth time you’d been over it. Not once. Gentle fingers glided over the pages of your old text book, showing you references and dates while keeping the page open until he was sure you understood. As you studied, you realized that he wasn’t just taking a course because society expected him to; he was passionate about music.

    The proximity between you had eventually began to close as your timidness wore off and you felt more comfortable with him. Your bodies now only centimeters apart. He was close enough that you could smell his cologne and his arm would sometimes brush against yours, sending a tingle up your spine. Doing your best to focus, you only snuck glances at him when he was reading from the textbook. There were smaller things you’d noticed about him now; his tendency to fiddle with his pencil, the miniscule freckle just to the right of his nose, and the way his lips settled into a pout whenever he rested his features. An urge to know more about him lingered, the study session only fueling your intrigue instead of burning it out as it usually did when you met a guy like this. As time wore on, excitement still gurgled inside you but guilt couldn’t help but convolute your heart. This entire time he’d only been helping you instead of studying his own things.

    “I’m sorry,” You apologized after getting a question wrong, noting that the clock on the wall read 5 pm. “We can stop now.”

    Yoongi quirked his head, “Why?”

    “I’ve taken up your whole day.” You sighed.

    “I told you I didn’t mind.”

    “Yeah, i know...” you trailed off, still unsatisfied. A silence ensued as you cursed your own selfishness and began to pack your things back up while Yoongi remained still.

    “Treat me, then.” His comment made you pause.

    “What?”

    “If you feel that bad,” He reasoned, following your actions and packing up before sending you a grin, “go to dinner with me.”

    Your eyes grew wide at the suggestion, heat flaring up inside you. Gathering your bearings, you did your best to appear unaffected though from the way Yoongi smirked, you knew it was already too late. “Is this your way of asking me out on a date?”

    “No,” he replied teasingly, “i’m pretty sure I only asked you to treat me.”

    Your face dropped into a frown. Hoisting your backpack up, you brushed past him to the door of the group study room muttering, “I can see why you and Taehyung are friends now.” 

    A throaty chuckle sounded behind you and you couldn’t help the corners of your mouth from upturning ever so slightly.

    “You're joking right?” Digging your chin into your jacket, your eyes danced over neon lights, flashing from every direction. The street was crowded, which made sense considering the time. Some people rushed through, while others doddled along gazing at each sign as they passed various vendors. The unmistakable scent of food wafted toward you, making your mouth salivate. “You could have picked an actual restaurant; i’m not that cheap.”

    “I never said you were. I happen to love street food, thanks.” Yoongi grinned at you, scarf muffling his words a little. Like many others, his catlike eyes scanned each stall, a playful expression on his face as he lurched down the road. “Besides, if we went to a restaurant people might mistake this as a date and think im an ass for not paying.”

    “When are you going to stop teasing me about that?!” You elbowed him in the side, the redness in your cheeks only accentuating your pout as you muttered, “Any girl would make the same mistake.”

    A small laugh left his lips, making your stomach flutter, “C’mon.”

    A gust of wind brushed your back, sending a chill down your spine. “Are you sure you don't want to go to a restaurant?”

    “Positive,” He immediately responded, his face brightening when he found the stall he’d been looking for. “They have all my favourites here.”

    “But, it’s cold out here.” You whined.

    A look of realization crossed his features, his eyes scanning your figure which was nearly folding in on itself to contain some warmth. Placing a hand on your arm to stop you, he replied, “Wait here for a sec.”

    Confused, you watched as he turned his back on you and headed down one of the various streets. Standing awkwardly on the pavement, you itched to follow him, but obeyed anyway. Pulling your hands together in front of your mouth, you breathed into them. A split second of bliss graced them before disappearing, leaving you to rub them against one another vigorously to try and keep a fraction of that warmth. So focused on your task, you almost didn’t notice when he reappeared in front of you, his hand full of something you couldn't quite make out. The palms of your hands stopped their rubbing motions as his hand grabbed yours and pulled it toward him. Placing a squishy package in your hand, he reached into his pocket to pull out another as warmth bloomed in your palm. Cracking the pack, he handed the other one over, “Put those ones in your shoes.”

    It was then that you realized you’d been staring at him, dumbfounded. Snapping yourself out of it, you nodded numbly. Crouching, you lifted the tongue of each sneaker, shoving the hot packs in one by one. Wiggling your toes, you relished in the warmth before rising up to your feet. While you’d been doing what you were told, Yoongi pulled two more out and burst the bubble in each. Slender fingers grabbed your hands, placing the packs in your palms before curling them over yours to make your hand into a fist. Taking hold of your wrists, he pushed your hands into your pockets while you stood like a mannequin, letting him control you.  Reaching up, he unraveled his scarf from around his neck, the bottom half of his face revealing itself. Zipping up his coat to the top, he gently curled his scarf around your neck, the pads of his fingers brushing against your skin faintly. Eyes studying the fabris, he only ceasing his fiddling with his when he was happy with how it encased you.

    “Yoongi,” you began to protest, only for him to cut your words short.

    “Better?”

    Nodding in response, you bit your lip hesitantly, “But what about you?’

    “Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll be fine.” Again at the mention of your name, your heart seemed to press forward against your ribs, only swelling when he gave you a reassuring smile that made his eyes crinkle. “Let's go eat.”

    Though you hated to admit it, you were thankful to Taehyung. After that night of eating and talking about random things, Yoongi started to become someone you saw frequently in your life. It would be a little bold to call you friends, but more accurate to say you were a smidge more than study buddies. Pulling out textbooks and going through notes together became a weekly thing, sometimes more depending on how much work you had. Just the same as the first time, Yoongi was patient with you. After a few weeks, he even started to ask you questions to about classes he found more difficult even if it wasn't something you took either. He claimed he just needed a different perspective, which you were eager to provide seeing as your mark in the class you shared had gone up by a whopping 10 percent since he’d begun helping you. You found it regretful though that you couldn't be of more help. It’d been two months since the two of you started hanging around each other and though you were happy to have him around, you couldn't help but feel frustrated.

    The more time you spent with him, the more you ached to know him on a deeper level. You weren't new to relationships, but you'd never really been this curious about someone. Time would slow when you weren’t with him, a yearning to be in his presence gradually growing until he took up most of your thoughts. Daydreams danced in your head about whether he was a good kisser, if he’d turn out like every other guy you’d eventually grown bored with, and what kind of person he was under his guarded exterior. If you were honest, you felt pathetic that you were in college and some guy who had never even kissed you, let alone touch you in a way that wasn't an accidental brush of the skin, had this effect on you. But you also craved to learn what it would feel like if he did.

    Somewhere among your studying and coffee runs, you’d made it your goal to satiate your curiosity. You didn’t aim so high as to date, just to hook up at least once. However, only disappointment greeted you. Not once had he ever made a move to touch you. Occasionally there were flirtatious jabs, but never anything more. Eventually, you started to wonder if maybe you just weren’t his type and the girls who seemed to hover and whisper all around you were.

    Whenever you were with the man, hushed voices followed. You knew what they were wondering; why was he hanging out with you so much? Were you dating? What made you so different? Sometimes you’d chuckle, earning a confused glance from Yoongi which you’d always brush off. Other times you’d find yourself moping because they were far from the truth. Right now, it was the latter.

    “Did you see that chick who left Yoongi's dorm yesterday morning?” Jimin, one of Taehyungs friends, questioned your circle of friends sitting at a table in the cafeteria.

    “No,” Taehyung replied, quickly trying to divert the conversation to spare you while Luna and Haerin snuck worried glances your way, “where is he and Namjoon anyway?”

    Jimin shrugged, “Yoongi sent me a text at 4 this morning so Namjoon is probably trying to wake him up.”

    “Do you mean that girl who was sitting on the curb?” Jungkook piped up, earning a glare from Taehyung whose efforts were thwarted, though he didn't seem to notice.

    “Sitting on the curb?” Jin asked.

    “Yeah,” Jungkook nodded, shoveling the last few pieces of a pancake into his mouth, “I think she was waiting for a cab.”

    “Yeah that one,” Jimin nodded while Jin muttered about how rude it was to make her wait outside, “do you think he’d mind if I asked for her number?”

    “Does he ever?” Taehyung huffed, discreetly placing a comforting hand on your own, which you’d absentmindedly curled into a ball, under the table. Taking a breath and shoving the fruit on your plate around, you implored yourself to relax. Why do I even care? I’m just a person he studies with.

    “That’s true,” Jimin nodded. “She was really hot though.”

    “Do you really have to talk about this with us here?” Luna barked from beside you, annoyance making her eyebrows bunch.

    Jimin glanced at her sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. “Sorry, I just didn’t think it was a problem seeing as we have before.”

    “It’s annoying.” She was relentless. “It’s not like I gab about my latest conquests.”

    “Bullshit,” Taehyung quickly rebuked, his hand becoming tighter on yours, “you constantly talk about your boyfriend.”

    Luna’s mouth dropped. “That’s different!”

    “It’s not.”

    “Yes, it is!”

    Bickering ensued from each side of you, causing you to slump in your chair, rolling your eyes. Ignoring the war raging on, Jungkook nodded his head toward the door, speaking directly to jimin, “If you still want to, here’s your chance.”

    Instantly your eyes shifted to the direction he motioned to, spotting a groggy Yoongi shuffling behind Namjoon like a zombie. Panic and dread consumed you. All you wanted to do was disappear, embarrassed at how much you’d lusted over someone who clearly wasn't interested. Before his irises could meet yours, you stood from your chair. The abruptness of your movement made the chair squeal as it skid against the floor, drawing the tables attention to you.

    “I forgot something in my dorm.” You muttered quietly, pivoting on your heel to rush through the door on the other side of the room, opposite from the one Yoongi had arrived in.

    “Wait, Y/N!” Haerin exclaimed, rising from her own seat with a worried expression.

    “Yeah, we’ll come!” Luna chimed in, her spat with Taehyung forgotten.

    You didn’t slow for them, focused on reaching the hallway before the green monster hiding out on your back was discovered by the one person who was the source of it. You cursed yourself over and over again in your head. This feeling of being at someone else's mercy was something you loathed. It was something every person would experience at least once in their life; you knew this. But it didn’t make it any easier when it happened. Feeling small and insecure, the insults directed to yourself spewed from your brain. You’d thought you’d grown past this and had learnt to not fall too deep before anything had ever even happened. Apparently you had been wrong.

    The tapping of two pairs of feet caught up with you. Luna remarked once her and Haerin were by your side, “What assholes.”

    “They didn’t do anything.” You replied before letting out a sigh. “I didn’t want him to see me is all. I feel so stupid.”

    “Y/N,” Haerin frowned, “you can’t help liking someone.”

    “I know.” You agreed. “I just don’t understand why it upset me and I hate that i’m mad when I literally have no reason to be. It’s not like we even had a thing, y’know? I just carried on one sidedly and got ahead of myself.”

    The girls stayed silent by your side, nodding while Luna patted your shoulder. They didn't defend you because in all honesty, you really had just gotten ahead of yourself. “It’s okay to just really want someones dick sometimes.”

    “Luna!” Haerin chided while you burst into a laugh, breaking the solemn atmosphere.

    “What? Its true and she hasn’t had any lately.” Luna reasoned, putting her chin in her hand like she was thinking. “Maybe it was just that he’s hot and you’re horny and y’know, pheromones and stuff.”

    “That is true.” You quirked your head contemplatively.

    “I have an idea!” Haerin interjected. “That guy with the long hair and is really annoying said his frat house is having a party tonight.”

    “I forgot about that!” Luna exclaimed excitedly. “Lets go get drunk, forget about Yongle or whatever,” you couldn’t help but snort, “and maybe even land you a guy for the night to work out all this frustration!”

    “Well?” Haerin looked at you optimistically. Right after she’d mentioned getting drunk you knew you’d go, but you played it like you weren’t sure. A hopeful silence paused the conversation for a moment, before a grin stretched across your lips and you nodded. The girls by your side nearly shouted with enthusiasm, hooking their arms with yours while you giggled and outsiders rolled their eyes at your groups antics.

    The day seemed to drag, as it always did. However, today it was almost like someone had hit rewind, each time you looked at the clock feeling like a punch in the gut. All you wanted was to go home, beat your face, and get drunk with the people who loved you. As time ticked away, you did start to feel better. You credited this to Luna’s explanation. After all, your initial attraction to Yoongi, who you avidly avoided for the remainder of the day, was purely physical. Granted, you had grown interested in him, but it wasn’t like you were in love. Looking back at the days you’d spent in his company, your mind analyzed every second, coming up with reasons why your body reacted to him or why your mind became goo. In short, you chalked it up as lust, telling yourself that you would’ve felt the same way with any attractive guy with how long it’d been since you’d been intimate with a person. By the time the clock struck half past 3, you’d successfully convinced yourself that Yoongi hadn’t actually upset you, your hormones had.

    Feeling confident again, there was a spring in your step as you trotted down the halls. Outfit choices and makeup selections swiped through your thoughts, anticipation bubbling as you thought about the night to come. All your musings clouded your senses. So much so, you didn’t notice when Taehyung waltzed up beside you and threaded his arm through yours.

    “Holy shit!” A squeal erupted from your lips, your free hand coming to clutch your chest.

    “Hi,” Taehyung grinned, not bothering to conceal his satisfaction with startling you.

    “You scared the crap out of me, Tae.” Loosening the hold on your chest, you punched him on the arm, though a good natured smile coated your mouth.

    “Sorry, sorry,” He apologized, though you knew from the giggles that he didn’t mean it in the slightest. “What are you doing tonight? Wanna grab a bite and see a horror movie?”

    “Tempting,” The hand you hit him with rested on his forearm, giving him a little squeeze of appreciation. Without saying anything, you knew he was worried about you. This morning you knew he’d felt guilty about what had happened from the seven messages he’d sent asking you if you were alright. Even though you’d reassured him every time, his actions were a testament to the kind of friend he was to you. He refused to cease his pestering until he was positive that there wasn’t a hint of sadness lingering inside your heart. “I can’t though. I’m going to a party in that one frat house on the corner.”

    “You are?” He feigned vexation. “Why wasn’t I invited?!”

    A shrug from you jostled your knotted arms, “I just hadn’t seen you yet.”

    “Well, I’m coming. I won't breathe a word to He Who Shall Not Be Named.” He reassured you and drew his vacant arm up to draw a cross over his heart. “Scouts honor.”

    Snorting at his reference, you shook your head indifferently, “It’s fine. I don’t care if he’s there.”

    Taehyungs eyes became slivers, lips forming an ‘n’ from his skepticism. “Yeah, okay.”

    Laughing at his distorted face, you rebutted, “I honestly don’t!”

    “Alright,” he acknowledged, though the suspicion he exuded didn’t fade.

    Opening the exit doors, you shivered and let your grasp on your friend slacken as you prepared to head your separate ways. Starting on the path to your respective home, you walked backwards so you still faced Taehyung. “Come to my dorm at nine-ish, okay? We’ll sneak you in to pregame.”

    Instead of replying, he merely shot you a thumbs up and a smile, zipping up his coat to the top and jogging off down the sidewalk. Turning around, you shoved your hands in your pockets, the memory of that first night with Yoongi flashing in your mind briefly before you forced it back into the vault of things you would rather ignore. Sighing wistfully, you carried yourself down the path, your previous daydreams coming back to life as the cold air nipped at you through your jacket.

    The party was like any other frat party you’d been to; cramped, loud, and vaguely smelling like something that had been left out to rot. You didn't mind much though, the alcohol in your bloodstream making all that seem somehow pleasant. Your vision was slightly blurred, though you were very much coherent. The taste of smoke lingered in your mouth even after you took a swig of your drink, head bobbing to the music while musing about everything and nothing.

    As promised, Taehyung had joined in on the fun. Accompanying the three of you and declaring himself your honorary bodyguard of the night after he was a few beers in. However, you knew he wouldn’t be a very good one seeing as though he tried his best, his attention always seemed to swerve off in the direction of Luna. He meant well, but he was a flirty guy and she was what he liked. You could see them on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall, Taehyung grinning like he’d won a prize as Luna tossed her head back as she laughed. A small smile graced your lips. They’re cute.

    Haerin was still by your side though, a slightly sour look on her face because ‘she already has a boyfriend and this is supposed to be girls night, so what the fuck?’ You had patted her shoulder sympathetically when you heard the stinging in her words and muttered a short reassurance that it was okay. Watching the dynamic play out, worry tugged at your mind, knowing that something more was going on and that you should probably address it. But fuck it. You were the one who was supposed to be comforted tonight for your brief and bizarre lapse in judgement. The weird love triangle wait for another day.

    After successfully drawing her attention away from your two best friends, the two of you knocked cups, vowing to find a good lay for the night and downing the burning liquid. Since then, the pair of you milled about, giggling to each other as you scouted for candidates. Bouncing around, there were a few guys who interested you, stopping to chat and lay down some ground work to give yourself options as everyone did in college. However, even as you smiled sweetly and laughed at their mediocre jokes, your mind always seemed to revert to the fact that they weren't who you really wanted. And yet, you trudged on, giving out sly touches and coy glances all the while ignoring the nagging sensation burning at the back of your brain.

    “I have to go to the washroom.” Haerin leaned in close to tell you after a while. Shuffling to the stairs, you assured her that you’d be fine waiting on the main level for her, not wanting to fight your way through the throngs of people unnecessarily.

    And so, here you were. Back against the wall with the rim of your cup touching your bottom lip, you fiddled with the hem of your long sleeve crop top that you’d paired with a faux suede skirt despite the chilly weather. Taking a moment for yourself, you noted that Taehyung and Luna weren’t where they had been before. Tugging out your phone that you’d tucked into the pocket of your oversized jean jacket for safekeeping, you shot Taehyung a quick text asking where he was and letting him know where you were. Storing your phone back away, you glanced up the stairs as it had been a little while. Wondering what was taking so long, you shifted your weight from foot to foot impatiently. A few minutes passed. Then another few. And another. When you were nearing the 20 minute mark and the end of your rope, you heaved a sigh, coming to the conclusion that she’d either met someone or had been dragged off by someone else. Resigning yourself to having to play mom and find her, you were just about to start your search when you heard a familiar voice rasp, “hey.”

    All the warmth that had accumulated in you seemed to seep out of every pore, your eyes growing wide as you swiveled your head toward the intruder. Drooping, ink eyes captured your, a telltale glaze across them that made him look spaced out though he was looking right at you. You gave him a once over, his black jeans sticking close to him while his grey shirt and plaid combo did the opposite. Clearing your throat a little, your eyes raked back up to his, your indifferent facade cracking when you spotted a knowing smirk on his lips. Moving the plastic cup away from your mouth, you spoke as you always did to him,“hey.”

    “You ran away this morning.” He stated.

    “Ah,” a blush touched your cheeks, “I forgot my notebook in my dorm.”

    He nodded but his features displayed something akin to disappointment, stepping closer when someone grazed his back. “You seemed like you were in a hurry.”

    You could smell the lingering scent of beer wafting toward you when he spoke, “I didn’t want to be late.”

    He quirked a brow, never being one to fall for someone's bullshit. “Y/N, you’re late everyday.”

    “Am not,” you quipped back though the corner of your mouth betrayed you by curling upward. “I didn’t know you kept a record of my attendance.”

    He chuckled lowly, “I don’t, but it’s hard not to notice when Taehyung seems to vibrate like a puppy when you come in.”

    A laugh tumbled out of you at that, the mental image appearing behind your eyes. Yoongi grinned back, a hand coming out to rest on your lower back, tugging you closer as someone tried to get by the two of you. The giggling died down as his hand felt like it was scorching through your jacket. Your chests were only a small distance away now and you found yourself absentmindedly leaning in closer to his warmth. That tug in your chest roaring to life and inching you closer. Eyes meeting his, the smile he’d worn had dissipated into a line. He didn’t remove his hand completely, but instead let it drift to the hem of your skirt. Skin skimmed your thigh as he fingered the fabric, his expression one you’d never seen him with before, but tantalizing all the same. A flash of pink wet his lip, voice low when he spoke, “You look good.”

    “Thanks.” A current of titillation shocked your core, rendering yourself unable to say anything more than that. Dark irises fluttered between your lips and eyes, the distance between you carving away. However, as soon as he leaned down just enough to grant you vision behind him, you spotted Jimin talking to some blonde in the corner. Immediately the anticipation that was threatening to boil over, died down into a faint ripple. Before you could catch yourself, you muttered, “You really are good, aren’t you?”

Halting, Yoongi’s brow furrowed in confusion. Straightening, he looked lost as he replied, “good at what?”

    But you never got to reply, a voice interrupting you, “Min Yoongi!”

    Recognizing the deep tone which belonged to Taehyung, the pair of you shot apart, your skin mourning when Yoongi's no longer graced yours. Yoongi put on an impressively bored face, looking behind you at your sloppy friend who trudged over to throw an arm over you. “What?”

    “Ugh,” you winced, attempting to shove Taehyungs hand off your shoulder. “Tae, you reek of booze.”

    “Sorry, some guy spilled a full beer on me,” he gazed down at you apologetically, before sharpening his eyes and glaring at Yoongi, making you want to shrink and hide. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

    “Me?” Yoongi asked, bewildered. “No? Why would I?”

    It was silent for a second as Taehyung glowered at him. “Well, whatever. You’re not allowed to hang out with Y/N today. So sorry. Go hang out with that chick from the other night.”

    Yoongi’s head cocked to the side, “Who?”

    “You know who!” Taehyung exclaimed, drunkenly pushing a finger into his friends chest. Yoongi glanced at you for help, but all you could do was stare down at the ground mortified. In any other situation, you probably would’ve keeled over laughing at Taehyung’s grandpa act. Now? Not so much. I’m going to kill him. “The one Jimin wanted to know about this morning. Go hang with her, Y/N is mine tonight.”

    “Taehyung!” Smacked him in the chest at his suggestive words. “Can you not say it like that?!”

    Taehyungs bottom lip jutted out, pouting while Yoongi started to put pieces together. “Wait, you mean that one?”

    He pointed at the girl Jimin was with.

    “Yeah! Jimin wouldn’t shut up about her all morning, saying how hot she was and that he had to ask you for her number and blah, blah, blah.” With each new word that Taehyung spat out, the more you wished you could just run away, praying that Yoongi wouldn’t connect the dots.

    “Tae, where is Luna?” You asked, trying to make an escape route before it went any further.

    “I left her on the porch because I saw you and Yoongi through the window. Why?”

    “Is that why you avoided me today?” It was like someone dumped ice on you, your jaw clenching and your eyes catching Yoongi’s, realization shining in their depths.

    “Of course it’s not,” Taehyung replied, inadvertently outing you. “Idiot--”

    “Taehyung!” The sound of Lunas garbled speech rang in your ears. Turning to the sound of her voice, she stumbled toward your group, bumping into almost every person.

    “Oh, Christ.” You muttered.

    “I forgot to say,” Taehyung murmured beside you, “She’s kinda really drunk.”

    “No shit.” You replied, catching Lunas arm as she neared you and dragging her toward you.

    “Y/N!” She grinned while swaying in your grasp, untroubled by her own level of intoxication. Yawning once, she rubbed her eyes and slurred, “What time is it?”

    “It’s late,” You lied; it was only 1 am. “Wanna go?”

    She nodded while Taehyung let go of you to swing her arm over his shoulder for support, his hand gripping her waist tightly to keep her steady. “I’ll take her outside.”

    “Okay,” you replied, moving her hair out of her face and resisting the overwhelming urge to take a picture as her head lolled back. “I’ll find Haerin, but don’t leave without me, okay?”

    Taehyung nodded, his own drunken stupor seeming to have worn off a bit due to the situation. Surging forward, you watched as Taehyung did his best to usher her toward the door. Luna wasn’t a big help though, stopping every few seconds to talk to someone and telling Taehyung to slow down. Yoongi's hand encasing your wrist diverted your attention away.

    Oh yeah, the conversation you’d been having, or rather he and Taehyung had been having, coming back to mind, that. Dread consumed you, glancing at him unwillingly. He jutted his chin toward the staircase. “Come with me for a minute.”

    He didn't seem to notice the reluctance in your voice when you responded, “Okay.”

    Tugging, he lead you through the crowd, cutting a path for you as he weaved. Most people parted for him on the staircase as he guided you up, glancing back to make sure you were okay every few seconds. However, a few grumbled in annoyance when he bumped shoulders with them or interrupted a couple from more intimate activities. As always, he paid no mind to other people's opinions and simply put on his icy stance that he used with most anyone who was a stranger. Not rude, but more apathetic. Reaching the top, he took you down the hallway. He didn’t stop at the first few doors, but instead waited until you neared the back of the large house to start jiggling handles and peeking inside rooms for occupants. Once he found an empty one, he pulled you inside, closing the door and latching the lock.

    Letting go of your wrist, you smoothed the palms of your hands on your skirt. Much to your own dismay, he still made you giddy, something each guy downstairs had failed to do. You found yourself tracking his movements and studying them so closely that your resolution that he was just some guy you wanted to fool around with wavered. Clasping your digits together in front of you, you tried to slow your pounding heart, hoping Yoongi wouldn't notice how tense you were. The room was quiet, only the muffled sounds of the party filling the silence.

    “I never took you as the jealous type.” A vivid shade of red dusted your cheeks at his words.

    “I’m not.” You replied, refusing to let yourself slip and put yourself in a vulnerable position.

    Yoongi stepped toward you, gently reaching out to tuck away a stray strand of hair behind your ear before shoving his hands in his pockets. Locking eyes, you struggled to tell what he was thinking, which you assumed was something about you completely and utterly embarrassing yourself in front of him multiple times. “So, that’s not why you left the table this morning a half hour before class started?”

    “I told you I forgot my notebook.” It was apparent that your excuse wasn’t going to appease him this time around by the tired look he gave you. Sighing, you crossed your arms and admitted a portion of the truth, “I also didn’t want to hear about your new notch. Satisfied?”

    “A little.” He shrugged, a small triumphant grin adorning his lips. “Although, you probably should’ve stuck around.”

    “What do you mean?” You replied, a little annoyed by how cryptic he was being, wishing that he would just be blunt like he usually was.

    “If you’d stayed, you’d know that I never slept with her.” He explained. “Namjoon did.”

    “Oh,” was all you could say, though a heavy sense of relief that you didn’t quite understand made you feel warm. Before you knew it, a smile crept up on your lips. You tried to quell it at soon as you’d noticed by biting the inside of your cheek.

    “Satisfied?” He repeated after you.

    Peering at him sheepishly through your lashes, you nodded. You did your best not to quake from the way he glanced down at you, a little smug. The wall you usually encountered was no longer present, like he was choosing to allow you even the smallest access. The unabashed lust in his irises set you at ease, knowing he felt even a fraction of the attraction that you did. Distantly, you pondered whether this was all apart of his deck of cards, though you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. If it was, it was a damn good card and you weren't a sore loser. At least, not right now. Feeling foolhardy from your previous actions, you couldn’t help but spill the truth now, if anything just to explain why you’d acted so rash, “you know, I’m usually not like this.”

    “Like what?” He said lowly as you unfolded your arms and reached out to grab hold of the edges of his plaid shirt.

    “This shaken up by someone,” feeling a little more calm now from talking about how you were feeling as you fiddled with the fabric, you steeled yourself and took the first step as you edged him closer. “There’s something about you that makes me so annoyingly interested in you. Usually, I’m much more of a casual person about this stuff and not quite so--”

    “Jealous?” He smirked.

    “No, I don’t like that word.” You scrunched your nose, bodies just about touching while Yoongi let you drag him in, hands still in his pockets. “More like… eager.”

    “That’s too bad.” He rasped.

    “Why is that?” His hand slid out of his right pocket to toy with the band of your skirt.

    “I liked watching you act like you didn’t care.”

    “Why? You like it when girls act cold to you?” You teased.

    “No,” he grinned devilishly, making your core tighten. “It just means I can have more fun with you.”

    Your breathing was heavy with need, as he hooked a surprisingly cold finger into the band he’d been playing with and coaxed you forward to close whatever remained of the gap between you. Lips pillowed yours in a short kiss before coming back for more. His hand slowly creeping to your back, one finger still underneath the fabric of your skirt. Pecks became fervent, gradually getting longer and longer in duration. Frustration started to build up as he moved away whenever you thought you were going to get more. Eventually, you couldn’t stand it anymore, reaching up and grasping the collar of his shirt with one hand while the other encased the side of his neck, wrenching him down to you. The rumble of a laugh tickled your lips as he slid out his other hand from his pocket and let it join the other. Electricity seemed to dance through your body, lighting you up with pleasure when his tongue finally swiped along your bottom lip. You were quick to grant him access as a hand slid lower on your body to caress the top of your butt cheek. Keening when his tongue met yours in a play for power, you wound your digits into his hair. Soft strands fluttered against your skin. The hand on your ass inched lower, squeezing hard in time with the motions of your mouths and pressing you against his groin. Fingers tightened their hold on his hair in response, making him grunt. He was mistaken if he thought you were one to be obedient.

    Sliding your hands down to his chest, you maintained the kiss as you backed him toward the bed. When his knees knocked yours, you broke away from him, a smirk on your face as you pushed him backwards onto the mattress. Leering at you slyly, he waited patiently for you to crawl on top of him, kissing his body over the fabric of his shirt on your way up to his lips. Settling down on his lap, you felt yourself clench when his hard-on pressed against your center. Lips touched his once before kissing down into his neck. You quickly gathered that Yoongi wasn’t a very vocal partner, which honestly you could have deduced just from the way he is in everyday life. Sucking on the skin under his jaw, you knew you found his sweet spot when he clenched his jaw, suppressing a moan. Smiling to yourself, you increased your pressure, forcing the blood toward the surface of his skin to create a nice plum blemish on his porcelain skin tone. Slowly, you began to rock yourself back and forth over his jeans, your underwear bunching and rubbing against your core. Hearing his breathing growing laboured, you sped up, grinding down harder on him. His head tilted to the side, giving you more space to work with, moving to create another mark that would show that he was yours, if only for tonight. Hands stroked your bare thighs as you shimmied a hand under his shirt, climbing higher up your legs before delving to your backside. With every motion you made, you felt his torso clench with pleasure, resisting the urge to rut up into you. Flipping up your skirt, his hands clutched your flesh so hard that you were sure he’d leave behind marks of his own. Helping your motions, you mewled into his neck after a particularly harsh squeeze, to which his shaft twitched. Your fingers traced down his abdomen to the waist of his jeans. Just as you freed the button from its confines, the jingle of your phone sounded from your jacket pocket.

    Stilling above him, you swore. Letting your weight rest in his lap, you rooted around in your pocket for the device, grimacing when you saw Haerin’s name on the screen. Accepting the call, you muttered a curt, “Hello?”

    “Hey, where are you?” The skin of your lips was pinched by your teeth as Yoongi drew shapes on your inner thigh.

    “I’m, um,” you had to pause to keep yourself from moaning when Yoongi wriggled below you, a dark look daring you to continue. Clearing your throat you placed a hand on his chest, digging your nails in to the fabric as a warning, though he merely smirked and continued drawing on your legs. “I’m upstairs. Why?”

    “Oh, fuck, are you with a guy?” Haerin asked, to which you simply hummed in confirmation. Yoongi suddenly sat up, his lips brushing over your collar bones making your thoughts fuzzy as you tired your best to focus on your conversation with Haerin. “I’m sorry Y/N, I’d handle it by myself but I can’t take care of both Tae and Luna.”

    A faint sense of worry invaded your bubble of pleasure, one of Yoongi's hands pressing you closer to him by the small of your back. “What happened? They were fine when I saw them.”

    “They passed out on the lawn.”

    Yoongi paused his ministrations, hearing Haerin’s words too. Heaving a sigh, you placed a hand on his shoulder and lifted yourself off of him to stand. “Alright, i’ll be down in a sec.”

    Ending the call, you fixed your skirt and hair while Yoongi buttoned his pants. “Sorry.”

    “Don’t be.” Yoongi reassured you, smoothing his collar and rubbing your lipstick off his neck. “I’ll take Taehyung home.”

“Thanks.” You giggled when you saw the traces of your lips staining his own. Licking your thumb, you gently rubbed the color away, teasing, “that’s a nice color on you.”

    “You think?” He raised an eyebrow, catching your hand and swooping in to kiss you, replacing the color you wiped away. “I’d better keep it on then.”

    You laughed and turned to the door, Yoongi’s fingers lacing together with yours. Each of you exited the room, faces still a little flushed while adorning grins. Yoongi stroked his thumb against yours, keeping you close as people glanced at you two and proceeded to whisper. You didn’t care though, still a little drunk off Yoongi's touch. Reaching the staircase, Yoongi speculated, “So how much you wanna bet that he threw up?”

    “Oh, I don’t need to bet on that.”

[mimiplaysgames]

Beloved Memories, in Notes (Vol. I)

Fandom: Pre-Birth by Sleep Rating: T Pairing: Terra/Aqua Other characters: Ventus, Master Eraqus Word Count: 5,675 One-shot (part of a series) Fluff / Hurt/Comfort / Mutual Pining

Summary: Aqua and Terra have been friends for a long time, endlessly practicing and studying for the cultivation of their efforts - the title of Keyblade Master. While their relationship has always been comfortable and close, Aqua realizes that the way she has been seeing him has been changing. Now, she is left with trying to define what that means.

AO3        FF.net

A/N: This series will be a supplement to my longform fic, Strength to Protect the Things That Matter. It is designed to be enjoyed by itself, but consider that it also acts as a prequel to that one, too.

For readers of my other fic, this series should enrich that experience, especially those wanting more backstory. That being said, this particular volume will be tied to Chapter 13.

I really hope this is enjoyable! Please send me thoughts. I have ideas for a Volume II (and I promise it will not be as gargantuan as this, lol!). I am taking ideas for more volumes, so if you have any suggestions or questions you want answered about them (or like headcanons), shoot me a message. Anything not already planned as fluff for the main fanfic will be posted as part of this series.

The photographs-in-book scene was written to James Horner’s “Flying Forward in Time,” from We’re Back! A Dinosaur’s Tale. Aqua’s gift scene was written to Daniel Licht’s “The Wedding,” from Dexter Season 2/3.

A Tale of Awareness

It was the aroma of the ginger tea and his touch that awoke her.

Aqua had slumped over a desk in the library, on top of an open book when Terra stopped by with some of his own brewed mixture. He rustled through her hair to wake her.

She took a sharp inhale, rubbed her eyes, and found the tea that he offered her. He shook his head gently with a tsk-tsk, as though to say that she was being naughty by sleeping on her studies.

But this was always their flow. Genuine support for each other that hid behind constant teasing.

Aqua gave a slight hum as she drank it, which was strong in the kick of flavor, and she was grateful he brought it to her. Yet this was to be expected. He always brought her tea late at night.

“Where is Ven?” she asked.

“Out slaying some dragon.” He took a seat in front of her.

“I think I’m too tired for your sass, tonight,” she said, her voice raspy.

Terra let out a soft laugh. “In his dreams, tucked away in his bed.” He smiled at her, and this woke her up a little more than the tea did.

He brought a couple of his own books and opened one, although he paid no attention to it.

“Whatever you were reading must have been so exciting,” he said.

Aqua placed her hand on the page she was on and closed the book to reveal a large leather cover with carved designs.

“The Affairs of the Heart,” she read.

“How romantic.” His eyes were focused on the page in front of him, but his attention was clearly somewhere else.

“Like you’d know. Have you even read this one? It’s one of our mandatories.”

Terra looked up at her, his gaze focused and confident. He had that small, adorable smirk she always knew him to carry whenever he was going to start getting cocky.

“Ye heart is delicate and tangible, and thou must lifteth ye Key-sword bequeathed to ye in honor, for thy Key-sword shall ne’er be wielded to perform betwixt lyght and dark,” he said as he enunciated his words in order to sound fancy.

Aqua tried to control her laughter but it came out instead as a snort.

“And all ye Key-sword bless-ed shall journey on behalf of the lyght, yea verily, and bringeth peace instilled upon all thine hearts shared,” he continued as she laughed.

“That sounds pretty much right,” she said. 

“I guess so, I think I made half of that up.”

“You want to see what I found?” she asked, her eyes lighting up. She grabbed a book from a stack that she built next to her. Terra took the same mug he offered her and drank a large gulp.

She sifted through the pages and then turned the book towards him.

“Look at this,” she said as she pointed to a specific spice among a list of them.

Terra tried to read the word out loud, but had trouble with it.

“Turmeric,” she corrected. “Apparently, I can make a cake with this.”

He was intrigued. “A spice cake?”

Aqua relished at his interest, always needing an opportunity to share this kind of excitement with him.

“Yes! And look here. There is this interesting spice...” she turned the book back towards her. “Hy-sso-pus. Hyssopus. It seems like I can use this one to mix with others for our meat dishes or something.”

She continued. “Oh! And another one...” She quickly turned some pages. “Annatto.”

“Where would you find all of these?” He set the mug down.

Aqua sighed. “Somewhere out there.” She gestured with her head to the stars outside the large, ornate windows of the library. “It would probably take me years to find them, but I would love to be able to play with them now.”

Terra let out a small half-sigh, half-chuckle. “Maybe when you are allowed to go on your own missions next year, you’ll have the time to search for them.”

Terra was eighteen, while Aqua was seventeen. They had just passed their preliminary exams, and were on their way to take their Mark of Mastery the next year. For now, he was allowed to go on missions by himself because he was older.

Aqua smiled as she leaned onto both of her hands. “You nervous about your first mission?”

Terra let his mouth hang, carefully considering his words.

“We’ll see how I feel tomorrow,” he finally said.

The next morning, Aqua and Ventus waited in the castle foyer, hoping to get a chance to give Terra a good-luck parting.

It seemed like forever before he finally made his way to say good-bye.

“What’s the mission?” Ventus asked excitedly.

Terra held up a small card with some notes. “I have to keep watch over a mother elephant and her calf who are working in an abusive circus.”

“That sounds pretty easy, you got this!” Ventus said, his eyes glistening. He had always thought of Terra as the most amazing person he had ever met.

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Aqua said. It did sound easy, and she suspected there was probably a lesson behind it as well if the Master chose this for him. “Do you know how long you’ll be gone?”

“Long enough to get the job done,” Terra said as he exhaled slowly.

Which shouldn’t take that long. As he boarded his glider and drifted off to the sky, Aqua took notice of the silence left behind once she couldn’t hear the hum of his flying anymore. It will probably be just a day or two. No big deal.

That presence stayed with her, however. There was suddenly no one to study with her late at night when Ventus was asleep. No one to distract her from those books and start conversations that could sometimes last for hours. She made breakfast for one less person. She sparred more often with Ventus, who was skilled enough to keep up with her.

However, her equal wasn’t there to challenge her when she needed it.

He wasn’t there to joke about her faltering form when she tried to counter his incredibly strong attacks. He wasn’t there to try to psyche her out with his incessant provoking. He wasn’t there to give her earnest praises every time they finished a duel, or discuss techniques to get better.

Ventus teased her as well, but the way it was done with Terra was different. For a friend that she has known since she was eight, growing up with him meant  she knew every twitch he showed on his face. It meant she understood him perfectly well, possibly better than he understood himself. They used to be inseparable.

But it wasn’t just that. On the third night he was gone, when she brewed her own tea and didn’t like the taste of it, she caught herself thinking of his deep-blue eyes and strong jawline. I’m being silly. He’ll be back soon. There’s no need for this...

The morning after, she looked outside the window from the foyer, to see him flying back. Her heart beating on her chest and a smile beaming on her face, she ran over to the entrance, but stopped short after what she witnessed.

Terra stormed into the castle, his eyes red. He looked at her for just a moment, a look of complete despair on his face, and he continued on without breaking his stride or saying anything to her.

She followed him to the library.

“Terra, what happened?”

Terra threw some books onto their table, and opened one while he maniacally flipped through some pages.

“I just need to study a little,” he said curtly.

Just like him to get distant and snarky when he got upset.

“What good is studying going to do for you now?” she asked.

“Just... something...” Frustrated, desperate.

“... What happened to the elephants?”

The question made him stop his frantic search through his books, and he took a deep inhale. It looked as though he was trying to stop himself from crying.

“I agreed to work for the circus,” he said, his voice shaking. “I made sure I was tasked at taking care of them. And I did. I took care of her, made sure she was fed and clean. The little one felt comfortable around me and we played everyday.”

He put his hand to his face as he continued. “But the little one was born with very... large ears. Some kids were picking on him during a show, and the mother got so upset.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She attacked the humans in defense of her baby. I understood why, and I tried to stop her. I tried to help my co-workers stop her, but...”

He turned around and leaned back on the table, his hands splayed out over the surface. “The ringleader decided to separate them. They locked her up in all of these chains. She couldn’t even walk in her cage.” He regained some composure to keep his voice calm. “They made the little one into a clown. To be made fun of every night while he food was thrown at him. He won’t even play with me anymore.”

Aqua didn’t realize her eyes were watering. She walked over to his side, and leaned back on the table with him.

“What kind of monster would do that to a mother?” he said.

“You’re right, he’s a monster.” She knew how sensitive Terra was. He was strong, and he was optimistic about his endeavors, and probably a little too often he would overestimate his abilities. These kinds of events were things that Terra always took so personally.

“They are so lucky they have someone like you to care about them,” she said softly. “You’ll find a way to help them. But you won’t find the answer in these books.”

Terra kept his gaze towards the floor, refusing to look at her. It wasn’t just that he was sensitive. She knew that he often felt embarrassed over his failures, as if it would taint his reputation. Not that he needed to impress her of all people, but it didn’t make sense that he felt he should anyway.

He looked utterly defeated. He whispered, “what is the Master going to say?”

There wasn’t a good answer to that, except to gently put her hand over his. She wanted him to relax, and realized that she was the one who couldn’t when she felt his thumb hold her fingers. The movement made her stomach flutter, as if she yearned for the touch. She missed him, yes, but this much?

She squeezed him a little, which prompted him to turn his hand upward so that she can hold it. His hand was warm, and she saw him lean toward her, although he kept his stare towards the floor.

Her thoughts lingered on his touch. They had held hands before, plenty of times in fact. Mostly to guide each other when they were hiking dangerous terrain, or when they were children so that they wouldn’t get separated.

They actually used to touch each other much more often. They used to wrestle when they played. As they got older though, that became awkward. He would call it less appropriate, and never initiated it again. By that point, they were older and were more interested in perfecting their fighting techniques, so it wasn’t something either of them missed.

It didn’t register to her how long they had been holding hands in silence until she heard the Master walk into the library.

“Terra,” he called out.

Terra quickly slipped his hand out of hers as he faced his Master, his posture erect in military style.

“Yes, Master.” He had wiped any evidence of sadness or anxiety from his voice, as he usually did to appear like he was in control.

“We shall talk in my office,” Eraqus said before leaving the library.

“Yes, sir,” Terra said as he followed.

Aqua leaned on that table by herself, looking at her hand while her heart beat a little harder.

“How did Terra not beat that guy up?” Ventus asked as Aqua filled him in about the ringleader. The two were dusting the hallways of the second floor. Every day there was a chore to do. It couldn’t be helped in a castle so large with so little residents.

“How is he, anyway?” he asked her.

Aqua shook her head. “You know what he’s like. He’s completely wrecked over the calf.”

Terra had been in the Master’s office for quite a while now, and the chores were a distraction when they grew tired of waiting for him. It took a couple of hours before they finally finished, and thought to take a break outside. It was then that they saw him head down the entrance hall and out the front entrance.

“Terra!” Ventus called out, but it was too late as the doors slammed shut. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”

Normally he would, so what happened?

Aqua walked downstairs as Ventus followed, to see the Master standing there.

“Master?” she asked.

“I have instructed Terra to not come back until his mission to free the elephants is complete,” Eraqus said, walking back toward his office as though nothing pressing had happened.

"Sir?” she asked after him.

“He needs to learn to juggle his setbacks. Life is not always going to be easy for him, especially as a Keyblade bearer.” He wrapped his hands behind his back, pensive but strong on his word in a hierarchy where what he said was law. There wasn’t a point to stand up to him.

And an order like that wouldn’t make Terra feel any better about himself.

“You’re such a worry wort,” Ventus said, breaking the silence as she stood there thinking to herself.

“Don’t tell me you aren’t.”

“Just a little, but it’s Terra. He can handle it. I swear, your worrying is going to bite back at you hard one day.”

Aqua gazed out the window of the library four days later, sitting on her usual spot, with the same open book - but unable to concentrate. The day was bright and the sky full of clouds, yet there was no overcast. A good day to spend outside instead of stuffing her mind with words, but she preferred to finished her responsibilities guilt-free. She just wasn’t doing a good job of that.

Ventus sat across from her. The seat directly in front of her was too special, too reserved for Terra, for him to take it. He also had an open book and attempted to finish an essay. Instead, he just fiddled with the pen, and it smacked against the table over and over.

“Ugh, Aqua, save me from myself.” Ventus tossed the pen aside.

“You really need to learn a bit of patience.”

“You really need to learn a bit of patience.” His voice became shrill so he could pass as sounding like a girl. “I should be rewarded for spending at least ten minutes reading this stupid thing. It’s so much better when Master reads things to me.”

He looked at the book she was reading, with its archaic language. “I really don’t look forward to reading that,” he said. A moment of silence, and then he stood up from his chair. “I’m going to train a little.”

“Ven.”

“Just for, like, ten minutes. I can’t stand sitting here any longer.”

Aqua shook her head as he walked away. It meant that her, or in the usual case Terra when he was still around, would have to sit with him at the last minute to finish the essay before the deadline.

Alone, she had nothing else to do but to tend to her book, finding a flow so she could let the words pass by. She didn’t bother to check the time when she heard footsteps behind her.

“You done procrastinating, Ven?” she called out, only to see Terra stand in front of her with a mug of tea, and a large stain on his shirt.

“As you can see,” he said as he pulled on the fabric, “Ven already assaulted me with a hug, with not a care in the world what I was holding.” He gave his usually sheepish smile, in so much better spirits than the last time she saw him.

“Terra!” The surprise was well-welcomed, and she knew she had the goofiest grin across her face. But she didn’t care. “You have to tell me how it went!”

He sat in front of her. Finally, a sense of normalcy.

His response was a smile, and she said, “so it went well?”

He nodded. “I tried to get him out of his shell. I even helped him visit his mother, although I had to cut it short. It was awful, taking him away from her. But eventually, I got him to open up after... well...” he shrugged a little, his eyes darting around like he was about to admit a secret. “Is it bad to get an elephant a little drunk?”

“Terra!”

“It was an accident, I promise.” He held his hand up as if he was vowing. “But it worked,” he added, searching the library for anyone who might have been listening in.

Aqua took the mug he set aside for himself and sipped his tea. Delicious. Things were finally back to where they belong.

“Anyway, they are back together,” he said. “Mother and calf. He became an overnight sensation with a new act we setup together and they are out of the circus and are onward to better show business.”

“That’s so wonderful. What did you guys plan?” She took another sip.

“It wasn’t me, really, it was him. He can fly. Now I can say that I’ve seen just about everything.”

She nearly spit the tea out. “Terra. A flying elephant? Ridiculous.” Always him to be making fun of her even when she seriously needed to hear good news.

Terra’s eyes widened as he laughed out loud. “You don’t believe me?”

“A flying elephant, sure. And I can breathe underwater.”

He leaned forward a bit, his eyes narrowing with a cocky smirk across his face. “Want to bet? I demand you make me that beef pastry I love when I prove you wrong.”

A challenge. She looked him in the eyes. They were determined, full of life, and yearning to succeed. Her stomach gave a flip. Has he always been that beautiful?

That beef pastry he wanted was this ridiculously large fillet steak coated with mushrooms and pancake batter that was terribly easy to ruin or burn. Getting it right was laborious, and it took hours to prepare.

But she was ready, and at this point she even felt like he didn’t even need to ask her.

“Fine. Prove me wrong,” she said. “When you fail, though, you will do all my chores for two weeks.”

“It’s a deal,” he said.

Terra’s triumphant return was not only met with praise from Master Eraqus, but it left a sense of ease within Aqua and Ventus, who were far less antsy with him around.

Sparring with him made her feel as though she was getting back on track, like she was training for her own improvement again. Terra was the complete opposite in fighting style. A warrior bent on using his sheer force to shatter his opponent. She was an acrobat, a mage determined to parry her opponent with mental accuracy and swift counterattacks. Sparring with him always sharpened her sense of evasion, because meeting some of his more broad brute swings directly was never an efficient idea.

After their duel was over, Aqua noticed the amount of sweat dampening his shirt, and the way his muscles moved as he breathed heavily. His hair was messy but it framed his jawline perfectly. His shoulders were broad, but had they always been? He had grown up so much and she knew this, so how was it she was just noticing this? What exactly changed?

The flutter in her stomach became unbearable and she could feel her cheeks getting hot, so she faced away from him and started her own exercises. Flips like a gymnast, with her hands and without, as she traversed from one end of the room to the other in a long line. The blood sent to her brain and the sensation of the air passing by her were enough to re-settle her senses.

At it worked well, until she saw that he watched her do it. Was that something he normally did, observe her practice? Such a strange and tense, yet gentle, stare. They locked eyes and he didn’t falter from the gaze, until he smiled gently and broke the connection.

Days went by and the two of them didn’t lock eyes like that again.

It was much safer to watch him spar with Ventus, like she did on a new day like today, when the Master came in with a sense of urgency.

“Terra, I am sending you on another mission,” he said, holding up a card with some written information. “It is a rescue. You are to go to this world and assist these two fellows from an organization in saving a kidnapped six-year-old orphan girl. She has been missing for a month.”

Aqua gasped. “That’s so horrible.”

Terra couldn’t hide the feeling of anger in his voice. “What kind of people would do-”

“Terra,” the Master interrupted. “Remember what you and I spoke about. Your focus should be on the girl. This world is one devoid of magic, so you mustn’t rely too much on the Keyblade. You are also forbidden from harming the kidnapper.”

Terra took a hard swallow. “Understood, sir,” and bowed his head.

“The same rules from before apply, too. You are not to return here until you have completed your mission,” the Master said with a stern demeanor, though not with cruelty or scorn.

Aqua stood up quickly, not really knowing what she was going to do. Object to the rules? Offer comfort? An orphan girl. So young, too. This would hit Terra really hard, since he was one also before the Master came to adopt him.

Before she said anything, Terra faced his two friends with a forced smile and said, “well, I’m off. Don’t worry about me.” He left so quickly that she didn’t get a chance to say anything.

Aqua put her hand on Ventus’ shoulder, whose facial expression absolutely betrayed any sense of control over his emotions.

“This one will be tricky,” he said quietly.

Each day that followed, Aqua tried to make it pass as normal. On the tenth night he was gone, she sat in the library, with that same book that she could barely finish, and a mug of tea that wasn’t brewed properly.

I can bake very well, but I can’t make a decent cup of tea to save my life.

She tapped her fingers onto the table. I need to know if he’s okay. Who is he with right now? Did he find her?

Is he even taking time to think about me?

Flustered, Aqua marked her place in the book and shut it closed, retiring for the night.

On the twelfth day since he left, Ventus offered the brilliant idea of visiting the waterfall nearby the castle. It was a place with a special memory: it was the first place they took him after he recovered from his sickness when he arrived. And it was Terra’s idea then. He begged her to go with him, his smile so wide it would have been infectious if she wasn’t in such a solemn mood.

But he didn’t allow her to reply to the idea. He just pulled her along with him.

The waterfall was genuinely a picturesque scene. The water rolled over several sloped rock, all smooth from its constant work. There was a cliff that wasn’t too high, where she and Terra taught Ventus to jump off from. The water pooled into a decent sized lake, which further ran down a gentle stream. 

But this was the difficult part. No location in this entire world was a safe place where Aqua could be rid of Terra’s memory. Everything here she shared with him. It was probably something Ventus was aware of, too. Which meant that he probably also felt an ache somewhere due to the absence.

Aqua minded her own business sitting atop a boulder by the lake’s shore, Ventus entertaining himself by practicing strokes. She just wasn’t in the right mood to have fun - her mind was too focused on memories of them coming here as children, when they didn’t think about anything in the world that would make them sad. And she was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice -

- when he crept close to her underwater just to grab her by the leg and pull her down with him.

This method worked to distract her. She surfaced with hysterical laughter, and the two splashed water on each other, though it quickly deteriorated into a competition. She won.

When they were done, they left the lakeside to dry themselves.

“I miss him,” she said as she put her shoes back on.

“I miss him, too.” Ventus was putting on his shirt. “I don’t really think this was an easy one for him.”

“I know he’ll be fine,” she said, looking off to the distance. “He’s brave, smart and resourceful. He’ll be able to make that girl feel safe. It just really hurts. It’s so strange not having him here.”

She chuckled out loud as she stood up. “It’s like I’m missing a half of me.”

“Oh. I see.”

Ventus contorted his face into a strange expression. His eyes narrowed, and his smile was wide but he gripped his lower lip with his teeth as it pulled upward toward his nose. Much like he discovered a very scandalous secret.

“What’s that look for?”

“He’s brave, and smart, and resourceful, and strong, and tall, and handsome.” He emulated a girl who is swooning with his hands, and his voice kicked up a pitch with each word that came out of his mouth.

Aqua replied nothing to this except to push him back into the water. Strong, tall, and handsome. It embarrassed her to even consider Terra any of these things, but they were true.

Back at the castle, Aqua took stock of the food in the kitchen’s expansive cabinet space when Ventus bursted through the doors in order to make an announcement.

“Aqua!” he called out in an almost whisper - a quiet announcement. “He’s back! He’s completely passed out in the library.” It was silly that he tried to lower his voice since the library was very far away from the kitchen and there was no way that anyone could hear him from there.

Not that she thought too hard about this. Aqua dumped the food she was counting and ran to the library, noticing that Ventus stayed behind. Probably some nonsense about giving us space. Still, for this she was grateful.

And there, she saw him. Laid out on an ornate white and gold couch, on his side as he draped himself over a fluffy pillow, his face buried in it. A large, wrapped bandage was tightly knotted over his left arm.

She gently walked over to him, and couldn’t help herself but graze over his hair with her hand. Gently, so she didn’t wake him. Her smile was so wide that her cheeks hurt. I’m so glad you’re home.

A brown paper bag sat on the desk they normally shared for studying. The Affairs of the Heart was stuffed with papers and photographs where she had last marked it.

Opening it, she saw the first photograph. Terra smiling, in what looked to be a swamp, with bloodied rags tied around his left arm. He was with a blonde little girl in pigtails by his side, and two mice on his shoulders. She flipped the photo to see the scribble of a six-year-old’s handwriting. My heros. Tera, Bernard, and Ms. Bianca.

The next photo, the girl had jumped up on Terra as she hugged him around his shoulders, her smile brimming wildly. Terra flashed a gorgeous, toothy grin as he hugged back. The kind of smile caught mid-laugh, and the only way he’d ever be caught on camera doing this.

Aqua’s stomach contorted into knots as she stared at the picture. Oh, she’s so adorable. And him...

A clip from a newspaper, with the headline, GIRL KIDNAPPED FROM ORPHANAGE FOUND. The kidnappers, two pawn shop owners, were arrested and charged with child trafficking and attempted child homicide.

A letter from the same girl. Dear Tera, thank you for sayving me and Mr. Tedy. I praid for you and you came. I want to now, am I good enuff to hav perents like you? Love, Penny.

A photograph of Penny and her teddy bear, with an adult man and woman, standing on a street covered in snow. Another letter from her. Dear Tera, thank you for fynding me and Mr. Tedy perents! Now I hav a famili. I will tell them abaut you. You jumped on the alligaters and fell in the water. That meen man held a gun at you. You sayved me from drowning. Plees com visit me soon. I want to tell you abaut my cat. Give your frends the jinjersnaps. Love, Penny.

Aqua had tears running down her face, and she wiped them away. The gingersnaps must have been in the paper bag.

Another newspaper clipping. The headlines read, Wonder Elephant Soars to Fame! Miracle Mammoth Startles World!

A photo of Terra feeding a large elephant some peanuts, and calf with enormously large ears reaching for him with its trunk. She flipped the photo to its back to see Terra’s scratchy and uneven handwriting. Dumbo and his mother.

The last photo. Dumbo in the sky, his ears stretched out as if they were wings. Clearly, she lost the bet. On the back, Terra’s handwriting again. Dumbo. You owe me a steak pastry, exactly the way I like it cooked. P.S. Show Ven.

Aqua laughed in a whisper. He still slept soundly and peacefully on that couch, like he spent a lazy day instead of accomplishing any of these astounding things. Her heart pounded, and her chest swelled with a nervous excitement when she confirmed that yes, he really did seem different this time around.

Aqua set up all the necessary ingredients on the kitchen’s island to make Terra’s favorite dish as Ventus sat on the dining room table, struggling to finish what he called a stupid essay that did nothing for him. She saw him mumble to himself across the bar area, not turning a page for what seemed like an hour.

She heard footsteps, and when she peeked, she saw Terra approach them with a large hula hoop decorated with green and white stripes, and a fabric bag.

“Whoa, what’s that?” Ventus jumped off the dining room table.

“Hello to you, too,” Terra said as he put the fabric bag down on the surface of the bar.

He flipped the hula hoop in the air. “This is for you, Ven. Some of the dancers in the circus taught me how to play with it.”

A small pain twanged in Aqua’s chest at the thought of women flirting with Terra. It probably was fair. There was no denying he became good looking as he aged. That wasn’t exactly what bothered her.

Terra demonstrated some movements with the hoop as he twirled and sweeped with it. And Ventus was so ridiculously excited that it there weren’t words to describe it. Taking the hoop, he tried to imitate the movements, and smacked himself on the face. Next, he tried jumping with the hoop. He threw it into the air and caught it.

“It could be good practice for something. He has way too much energy,” Terra said in a low voice as he sat at the bar.

“You’re hurt?” She gestured over to his bandage.

He waved her concerns away. “Just a flesh wound.” He grabbed the bag and put it in front of him.

“This is for you.” He gave a small smile as he crossed his arms and leaned on the surface of the bar.

“It better be as hypnotizing as that hoop,” she said. She had no expectations when she unraveled it. Probably something that he grabbed on his way back.

But it wasn’t as simple as that. It was a group of things that he would have had to travel far away to find, for the sole purpose of hunting them down for her. A tin can of bright yellow turmeric. A bag full of spicy red annatto. A wooden box of forest green hyssopus.

All proof that he didn’t just put in all this effort into a difficult search for them, but that he was thinking of her as well. She got light-headed at the thought, and her heart beat fast.

There he was leaning on his hand, with this excitable smile on his face. He was anxious to see her reaction. As if he had been looking forward to giving this to her for ages.

Aqua slowed down a shaky laugh to seem in control of her emotions. Her smiled widened. “Terra, you’re amazing.”

There was a twinkle in his eye, as though he wasn’t expecting such a response. He tried to keep a smile, but he was obviously nervous. “Do you really mean that?” he said in a low voice.

Did she really mean it? Yes, Terra was amazing. In the things that he was able to achieve. But in a different way, too. Amazing in all the qualities that he showed to others, to her. Amazing in such a way that she realized it made her wish he would look at her like that every single day.

She glanced over at Ventus. He let the hoop drag on his back while he watched them. He rolled his eyes dramatically, and she was sure she’d hear his taunts later that night.

“Terra, you are back,” the Master’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Aqua took this opportunity to turn away to focus on the ingredients in front of her, grateful for the opportunity to calm down.

“Terra, you did wonderfully,” she could hear the Master say behind her. “I’m so proud of you.”

She smiled to herself, knowing full well that these kinds of words will make Terra’s spirit soar with pride and a newfound confidence for the rest of the day. A sense that he could achieve what he wanted. He deserved it.

And she, too, wished he kept watching her as she worked, knowing that he instead kept himself busy as he exchanged words with the Master over his journey. Ventus scurried over and exclaimed that he, too, wanted to hear about these wild adventures.

Aqua listened on as she lovingly spiced the raw meat, with the intent of making it absolutely perfect.

This piece includes references to Dumbo (1941) and The Rescuers (1977).

Thank you SO MUCH for reading this loooooong post! It took eight hours of labor, lol. I promise the other volumes will not be as long. Let me know what you think, and if you have any suggestions for further one-shots in this universe, shoot me a request.

[crushingonrazz]

Elope

Support Me ~~~ Commission Me

Hey, so I’m planning to make this sort of...String Theory one-shot collection? There are little things that won’t be covered in the actual stories, little things that come between the prequel and the main story and aren’t in the timeline, maybe some of the moments in ST that didn’t have a chance to be included (i.e. Red finding out the experimental surgery had failed). This is the start of the first chapter, and I’m aware the context is probably confusing. This is just the beginning of this, so more will be explained in the rest, but I wanted some feedback on this bit! When it’s completely finished, it will be posted on Ao3, and you’re welcome to ask questions about how things fit together there! (also there are some unexplained monster customs here that I’ll explain on Ao3 but feel free to ask about them here lol) Anyway, enjoy some shitty rottenberry lol

“Hey, stop looking so nervous!”

Razz looked up at Blue, irritated. “I barely know what nervousness is.” He sighed, reaching up to rub a hand across his sockets. “There’s no fucking way he’s going to be happy about this. He only knows me from the stories Slim has told him, and that me was..is...I wasn’t--”

Blue carefully took hold of his hands, pulling them forward and into his chest. His eyes were practically shining with hope, happiness. God, sometimes it felt like the only place Razz could recognize happiness was when he was looking in Blue’s eyes.

“All Papy wants for me is happiness. That’s what brothers in this world are supposed to do. And there’s no way he can’t see how happy you make me.”

“No, but he can perfectly well imagine how badly I can hurt you. Even I don’t know that I won’t, Blue. This isn’t--”

Shaking his head quickly, Blue leaned forward to press a kiss to his mouth. “The soul bond will help with that! You won’t have to worry about working for positive emotions all the time when I can just give them to you!”

Razz sighed lightly, his own world’s view of soul bonds entirely different from Blue’s. But he understood, now, what it was supposed to mean, and he...well, he wanted it. He wanted everything with Blue. This amazing skeleton was already his whole world, and they’d only been reunited for a few months.

“Ready?”

He looked up, meeting the other’s eyes. Every time he saw them he was surprised all over again by how blue they were.

How could someone so bright love someone like him?

“No. But let’s get it over with.”

Blue smiled at him encouragingly, then tugged on his hand, leading him through the door of his room and down the stairs of the small home he shared with his brother. “Papy!”

“Yeah, bro? I thought you were--”

Stretch poked his head up from the other side of the couch, having probably been napping for the third time today. He cut himself off when he saw Blue and Razz’s joined hands, brow furrowing in barely-concealed anger, but Razz could see the spark of fear in his eyelights. Razz wouldn’t pretend not to understand why he was so afraid for his brother. He’d spent enough time with Slim, heard enough stories--

A wave of panic broke through the gap in his LV, nearly overwhelming him with the force of it. He barely stopped himself from cursing aloud from surprise.

“We have to talk to you about something!” Blue’s voice had calmed considerably, but he was still excited. Of course he knew how this was likely to end. He just held out the hope that maybe Stretch would be okay with it.

Stretch looked between them doubtfully, then sighed as they rounded the couch, pushing himself up to fully sit and be able to look at them. “What did you need, bro?”

“Well!” Razz could see the nervousness in Blue’s posture, and he hid a grin despite his own reservations. Fuck, he was adorable. “We have some news!”

Eyes narrowing, Stretch spared Razz a suspicious glance before returning his attention to Blue. “Okay…?”

Blue opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again. Razz stifled a laugh, earning a mock-glare from Blue. Stretch was still watching them in confusion, his hostility growing every time he glanced at Razz.

“WellyouseeitscustomarytospeaktotheclosestfamilyandgettheirblessingandyouremyonlyfamilysoI--”

“Whoa, whoa!” Stretch held up his hands, eyes going wide at the onslaught pouring from Blue’s mouth. “What?”

Blue took a deep breath, squeezing Razz’s hand. He’d told him, once, that it helped him focus, the reminder that Razz was there beside him instead of across the multiverse grounding him.

“Razz and I want to get married.”

“What?!”

Razz barely stopped himself from growling at the tone, magic flaring for a split second before he reigned it back in. Even that single word sounded like a threat, and even now his LV was screaming at him to attack. He took a deep breath at the same time as Blue, the other continuing despite the obvious lack of support from his only family.

“As you know, we’ve known one another for quite a long time, and I’m sure you remember me telling you about Razz’s LV going down, and we just…” he seemed to be searching for the words that would make the look in Stretch’s eyes fade into something pleasant. “I’ve always kind of thought that once I find that person, I’d know, and I’ve never known anything more than I know that I’m supposed to--”

“No.”

Blue’s speech came to a stuttering halt as his brother spoke, orange smoke drifting from his sockets in anger. Razz shuddered, holding himself back from retaliation. Fuck, was this even worth it?

Then Blue shifted beside him, and he glanced over to see his drawing his chin up, shoulders setting in determination.

Yeah.

Yeah, it was worth it.

“No, what, Papy?”

“No, I’m not allowing this! I’m especially not giving you my blessing!” Stretch spat out the word like it was an insult. Blue’s eyes flashed with hurt, and he was quick to backpedal. “It’s nothing to do with you, bro. Nothing at all, you deserve to be happy! It’s just…” his eyes flicked back to Razz. “You’re a murderer. Not so long ago, you were abusive to the one person that loved you. I’m not letting that happen to my only family.”

Razz lifted his own chin, battling back the confused emotions roiling through his soul. “I don’t deny my sins. I haven’t even tried, since…” he trailed off, gesturing to Blue. “Stretch, I know that you only have experience with the worst of me, but I haven’t even been capable of loving someone until Blue. He’s…” Fuck. Fuck, he couldn’t get emotional. This was not the time. “I would never hurt him.”

Stretch snorted. “What, like you didn’t put those scars on him? Like he doesn’t wear a scarf and gloves to cover up what you--”

“Papy, he didn’t do that to me!” Blue interrupted, stepping forward. “You know that he didn’t, I’ve told you that!”

Stretch’s doubt was easily seen reflected from his eyelights, and he shook his head again. “No. Just...no. I will not, and never will, give my blessing. I do not support this, I do not support you tying yourself to someone who’s so…” he searched for words for a moment, then sighed, giving up. “It’s not happening.”

And with that, he pushed himself to his feet, disappearing within the next breath.

Razz realized, then, that Blue was crying. Immediately, he turned, pulling the other into his arms and kissing the top of his head as gently as he could. “Blue, don’t cry. It’s not worth crying. We don’t have to be bonded for you to be the best thing that’s ever happened to--”

“No!” Blue pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. His own were still filled with tears, but his eyelights were determined. “Razz, I want to be bonded to you. I love you! That’s what...I want to be able to love you for the rest of my life! Able to support you, help you through your struggles!” He sniffed, leaning forward to bury his face in the other’s chest again. His voice came again, this time muffled. “I just...you make me happy. You really do. I would...tear the world apart, to be with you. I-I have, I…”

Razz tightened his hold, breathing deeply as he’d learned to do. “I love you too. Like I’ve never been capable of before. You know that.”

They just stood there for a few long moments, holding each other tightly as Blue cried. Razz could feel something almost-sad stirring at the bottom of his soul, but unlike the happy emotions, he had no desire to chase it down, force it out into the open.

Then Blue gasped, and pulled back, looking up at Razz like he’d solved the greatest mystery of the universe. “Razz, we can’t have a wedding without my family!”

He stared down at him, uncomprehending. “...yes?”

“Who says we need my brother’s blessing just to be bonded?!”

[redscullyrevival]

Ship of Destiny: Liveship Traders Rundown

@sonnetscrewdriver this has been a wild ride! TW: Spoilers abound and discussion of rape follows. 

Setting/Plot/Narrative

For being my least favorite installment I do feel that this created world and it’s social/magical systems arrives at it’s most cohesive fruition in this last book, which makes sense, and I am thankful for that. 

I also found the idea that a large bulk of what was expressed and used to motivate and further the story is tossed away, or altered, by the end of the book - in the sense that Tintaglia and the reintroduction of dragons into the world along with the recognition of the Pirate Isles reorders power, society, and economy - to be a unique and interesting choice. 

Its a bit of a tricky move but it didn’t feel like “a waste” to me to have learned so thoroughly the world only for it to be rearranged at the end. It all worked towards the total theme of the series of inevitable change and response, in accepting life and taking responsibility for only what we can control. 

Or, at least, that’s the big takeaway I got!

Althea Vestrit

Fuck

Okay

We’ll... we’ll have to come back to Althea in a second.

Captain Kennit

HHHHMMMMMMMSLDKFNL:KSLDK

This fucker.

Like a lot of characters with well done tragic backstories I was rooting for Kennit. I didn’t hate him but I didn’t really like him either, you know? As I said last time he exudes the “cool motive, still murder” type of deal - Kennit is a character who the majority of the series straddles the line of never being someone who gains reader sympathy while still being recognized by the reader as a deeply damaged person not entirely of his own making. 

So I rooted for him. 

Through out the entire series Kennit gets away with a lot of stuff and I understand from a narrative perspective that him raping Althea was a choice to have him cross a line. As the reader we know he raped Althea whereas everyone around, aside from Althea and Etta, isn’t sure he is capable of it. 

Which turned into some intense fucking writing. 

Because it isn’t ‘Kennit raped Althea so now he is the bad man everyone hates and a common enemy’, no. He remains captain. He remains a hero, the pirate king, the freer of slaves. A “good man”. We know Kennit isn’t a good man, but then again we’ve known that all along. We really have. All the signs were there. What was done to Kennit was all that was left of Kennit. Paragon tried to take that pain and suffering from him, but Kennit gave the hurt he received and that’s one reality of trauma and failure to cope. Because Kennit was never coping. 

Ultimately I pitied Kennit while also accepting his actions as being abhorrent - getting angry and baring frothing teeth wasn’t my reaction. That isn’t how I react to this type of thing in narratives a lot of the time, especially with one that is trying it’s darnedest to be honest and respectable when it comes to this particular reflection of real life. 

In the chapter the rape happened, the second my eyes read it, I came to hate Kennit. And that was the right response. That’s why it was written the way it was, I believe, so as to finally push the reader into having a real solid opinion about Kennit beyond his fake persona and his personal grab for power and fame elevating others; to remove benefit of the doubt completely and say “This is not a good person” no matter what his puzzled together sob story is and no matter what he has done in the name of social and political progress. Kennit is a shitbag human. 

This series stresses, to an almost anxiety inducing degree, that people and life and situations are complex ever shifting, evolving, and decaying breathing entities. The only character who was truly stagnant and unmovable was Kennit, who hid under the guise of modernization and revolution. He had to be made irredeemable and dead. 

This is a tight narrative that doesn’t abide such a person, doesn’t let such a person survive - that’s why so much emphasis was placed on the idea of Kennit’s luck. Something had to keep him around until he finally made a change, a choice, that would actually alter him.  

To that end, I “like” the character as a device but not as an idea of a person or as a character-character. 

What’s just as cutting is that Winthrow, Vivacia, Jek, (and probably society/history) doubt Althea. It’s gut wrenchingly frustrating. And it taints those characters just as much as it paints Kennit; and entirely because we know the total truth how they don’t.  

Althea Vestrit

Phew, okay, lets try this again. 

This was some hard shit. 

Althea’s rape wasn’t the “worst” rape scene I’ve ever read and it probably won’t be the last, but what made the scene so difficult wasn’t any fucked up occupation with focusing on the physical but by focusing on the emotional and psychological confusion, terror, and exhaustion of the moment which worked to heighten the violation. I was thankful it wasn’t a long scene or I’d have to have skimmed it, and making it short was a smart choice because it gives strength to the idea that any form of unwanted physicality, no matter how briefly depicted (or in actuality), has massive repercussions. Basically it was a small mercy that we didn’t have to linger and wallow in the misery of the act to get across the wrongness of it and that’s all do to the writing.

I feel a bit bad for focusing on Althea’s rape so heavily when talking about her and when talking about Kennit because it’s kind of like “Wow, well, there is more to her than this” - but I also think that’s a thought better reserved for a real person more than a character. 

I said my reaction to this kind of thing in stories a lot of the time isn’t real true anger, and I stand by that, but come on! Obviously I get a little angry at the same time! I invest in characters and I get mad at what is done to them in-story just as much as I get mad they had something done to them because that was a choice made for the story, ya know? 

Like, sometimes the emotion is “UGH this character wouldn’t do that, why is this happening?” anger and other times it’s “UGH what is this character doing stop being a dummy (because I understand them as being capable of doing this dumb thing)” anger. And sometimes it’s both lol. I’m a mysterious woman!

Anyways, my point is that poor Althea gets a bit overshadowed by her rape but that isn’t to say I think her aftermath was handled poorly - on the contrary I was pleased with her outrage and paranoia and cunning and muddled swamp of complex reactions and fears and triumphs. 

What I can’t decide is whether my still not totally endearing myself to Althea even after all she came through is the biggest fault of the series or it’s most crowned achievement if I’m completely honest. 

Kyle Haven

Bye bitch. 

Winthrow Vestrit

This fucking kid.

I’m almost devastated that Winthrow was so enamored with Kennit but like I get it? uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughghghghgh 

I love Winthrow and Etta, they have a kind of relationship I enjoy, and I guess I’m happy they’re on the mend post-Kennit? 

From Winthrow’s faulted, stunted, half-truth perspective of Kennit doubt over the man’s ability to rape makes some sense - but as the reader I felt I couldn’t allow Winthrow the grace of understanding his hesitation to believe his aunt.    

So, Winthrow was tainted by Kennit and now writing this I’m a little shocked to find I’m a little bitter about it! LOL

My sweet precious priest boy where did you go?!

sigh

Its one of those things were I respect the choice and it makes total sense and thus speaks true of the character for Winthrow to doubt Althea and only realize it possible after talking to Etta - but as a reader and fan I wish Winthrow disowned Kennit immediately so I could continue to like him as I had all along. 

sigh

I thought it hilarious Winthrow was scandalized by his sister and Reyn’s relationship though, lol, like step back and get some perspective you prude.

Keffria Vestrit

STILL THE FAVORITE!

I’m biased at this point though.

Locking down the home front by doing all she could, especially by letting go of things she didn’t want to - that’s some badass guts and fucking growth right there.

FUCK YEAH

Her struggle with how to rearrange her bedroom in tandem with her understanding of Kyle and her place in the world was brilliance.

Ronica Vestrit

My favorite spy.

I really wanted her to take Serilla under her wing and phew thankfully that kind of happened at the end - I was so worried about my girl Serilla, I’m glad her fate is tied with Ronica’s. 

Malta

Oh boy oh boy what a treat!

Malta is my hero lol

She is a lot more like her mother than she thinks - her ability to navigate social standings, to become smaller or larger as needed, and to read others and bargain comes from mama not Kyle. I hope, I really hope, she knows that. 

My little survivor.

Seriously though, Malta evolved so much faster than anyone else and proved to be much more adapt at it then anyone else. The political/social manipulation she grows to be an expert in was some of my favorite world building/scenes in the entire series. 

I love her so much. 

Reyn Khuprus

I love him too.

I’m so glad the Rain Wilder’s drop their veils and open up, I can’t wait to read more and see how that goes for them!

Reyn’s desperate search for Malta was some fun pining but the best bits was how the trip worked to better illustrate the workings of dragons and give some insight into the Elderlings and what’s in store for the future before we ever get to the bardering table.

Just a sweet, sweet dragon boy.

Vivacia

Good for her, I guess. 

Pretty apathetic to be honest lol

I don’t know why Vivacia slipped away from me, especially since she is now in a good place, her own real entity! What’s wrong with me as a reader?!

Paragon 

I’m so relieved but so upset omg

Etta

Oh baby girl I’m so so so sorry.

Etta is a really fascinating character and I really hope to see, or at least hear of her, again. She isn’t done, she has the least resolve and most open ended goodbye out of everyone and I want more of her and for her than that.

I really grew to appreciate Etta and if I was going to make a friend out of this cast of characters she and Keffria are my first picks; and I’d love if ever they got a chance to meet. They’d help each other so much. 

I wonder if their parallels are intentional as the two most influential women in Winthrow’s life? Hmm. Probably not. Both are much more interesting as they are on their own without pitting them against Winthrow; especially Etta.  

Satrap Cosgo

This fuck nugget gets no props for growing. 

Kiki redeemed herself by like a thousand and I felt for her in the end but Cosgo can suck an egg. 

Although there is a part of me that enjoyed his detached and surly attitude towards everything. 

[fishylife]

The Bad Kids Episode 7 leggo

(This is sooo rambly and repetitive sorry)

- This episode was called 日記 “diary.” The most obvious interpretation of that would be referring to Chaoyang finally starting his summer diary assignment.

- That first scene of little Yan Liang riding on his trike reminded me of the scene in the Shining where the camera was following around the little boy as he rode around the hotel. Anyway, it just gave us some background information for Yan Liang, his dad, and Laochen.

- After Yan Liang saw his dad, obviously he was upset. His dad was his hero, and up until now, Yan Liang was always saying that his dad was a good person. I don’t doubt that his dad was a good dad to him, but Laochen put him in rehab for his drug use.  Like I said in a past post, I don’t think their story is meant to be anything shocking or special, it just helped us flesh out Yan Liang and his relationship to the mentor figures in his life.

- There’s tension between Laochen and Yan Liang that arises because of this. I do believe that Laochen sincerely thinks he’s doing the right thing for Yan Liang, but seeing the state that his dad is in, Yan Liang can’t help but wonder what Laochen ever did that was good for his dad. If being institutionalized did that to his dad, Yan Liang would rather risk it in the outside world on his own.

- Also seeing his dad in this state, that kind of continues to build Yan Liang’s self-sufficient attitude. Knowing that his dad can’t take care of him, he’s more determined to take care of himself and those he cares about.

- Yue Pu called her brother’s foster family and they said that her brother’s health was really deteriorating, which makes their situation that much more urgent. They decide to just take the 30,000 RMB and to give the camera to Zhang Dongsheng. HOWEVER, Yan Liang asks Zhu Chaoyang to make a copy to give to the police afterwards.

- Last post, I was like “what year are we in? why don’t they make a copy?” Well, in this episode, we find out more about how technology works here. Chaoyang had to go to a computer bar to have access to a computer, but it still seemed like he knew what he was doing. So I guess this show would’ve taken place in the early 2000s. That’s when my school had computers and we had computer class, but it still wasn’t really commonplace for kids to always be around computers. Some kids liked video games but it wasn’t totally weird to not touch a computer outside of school. So anyway, now there is a copy of the incriminating video in Chaoyang’s possession.

- This kind of confirmed my thoughts that Yan Liang is a person who wants to do good, but just has other priorities. He showed signs of wanting to do the right thing in previous episodes, but it’s just that he’s very good at prioritizing and if he has to break the law to tend to what he deems important, he will do it. Him still wanting to turn Dongsheng in seems to be a big decision, and I think he understands that this would lessen the guilt on Chaoyang too. And it makes sense that Yan Liang does have this strong sense of moral justice, if this Yan Liang is the same detective Yan Liang in the author’s other books. He has a sense of justice, but it just doesn’t always align with the official legal definition of justice.

- Chaoyang has fun swimming with his dad every week. I’d consider his love for swimming to be correlated to how well his relationship with his dad is. Chaoyang even practises holding his breath at home in his bathtub. His mom doesn’t look impressed, and I think it’s because she realizes that Chaoyang is growing closer with his dad and that’s a threat to her. Chaoyang even wrote about his dreams of swimming in the Pearl River (I think?) with his dad. So they’re kind of in a honeymoon phase of their bonding.

- There is a theme of dads in this episode. Chaoyang’s relationship with his dad is getting better, whereas Yan Liang has to re-evaluate what his relationship with his dad is. Granted, Chaoyang might be in for a rude awakening if Yongping or Wang Yao catch wind of Chaoyang being involved with Jingjing’s murder again.

- Chaoyang continues to confront Dongsheng on his own, which is dangerous. But I’m still trying to make sense of what happened to their confrontation. Part way through Chaoyang trying to threaten him, Ye Jun and Ye Chimin showed up asking about joining his lessons so the conversation gets derailed.

- This was the scene where Chaoyang found out about Dongsheng’s wife dying, and he didn’t put it past Dongsheng to have murdered her too. I think he was definitely shaken, and i guess it was a reminder that he was dealing with a murderer. While he was brave before, I think he lost a bit of steam.

- I am also trying to make sense of Ye Jun and Ye Chimin. Now that we’ve seen more of Ye Chimin, she seems a bit less bratty, but maybe it’s just because she’s with her dad. When Dongsheng was pouring water for his guests, Chimin asked Chaoyang about the classes very civilly lol. Anyway, I wonder what Ye Jun thought of the confrontation. Did he think it was weird that Chaoyang was at Dongsheng’s house? He noticed that Chaoyang was shaken when he found out about Dongsheng’s wife dying. In theory, that should be totally unrelated, so does Ye Jun think anything of it, or is he just filing that in his mind for later use?

- In hindsight, I realize that maybe Xu Jing’s death may not be as suspicious as I initially thought. Perhaps most people would’ve thought that she’d gotten suicidal after her parents died and decided to go with them, as opposed to jumping to the conclusion that Zhang Dongsheng was a serial murderer. Of course, the kids know better because they already know that he’s a murderer.

- My guess is that Dongsheng’s original plan was to sell his apartment and downgrade and that was how he was going to get 300,000 RMB for the video. But he got super touchy when the potential buyers were questioning his personal life and decided against the plan. And I think that was the beginning of him deciding to get rid of the kids once and for all.

- Dongsheng followed the kids after he tracked down where they hid the money, and followed them to the ship that Yan Liang and Yue Pu were staying at. He searched the place, looking for the camera but came up empty handed. It’s interesting that he found the money and didn’t take it, but I think it was because he didn’t want to arouse suspicion just yet. One of the dock workers mentioned that a fire at the dock would be very dangerous because most of the ships are wooden, so my guess was that he was going to set fire to the ships while the kids were in them, hoping that he’d kill them and the video evidence.

- The episode ends with Laochen and Dongsheng buying pop at the same beach stall. I don’t think it means anything in a literal sense. They both have no knowledge of each other, but I think perhaps that it’s a sign that their paths will cross soon. Even though Laochen is no longer a police officer, he’s the only one who’d take the kids seriously, and it is probably not past Dongsheng to kill the kids if they are a threat to his well-being.

Other thoughts

- Chaoyang is bonding with his dad now, but is he pulling away from his mom? To be honest, I don’t think he hates his mom. I think most of the uneasiness is his mom’s insecurity that she isn’t being a good mom and that she’s losing him to Chaoyang. Meanwhile, Chaoyang is just taking advantage of the fact that his dad will give him the time of day now. But as I mentioned in a previous post, I wonder if Chunhong will do something drastic (and illegal) to prove that she’s the better guardian for Chaoyang.

- I don’t think there’s that much more to say for Yan Liang’s story line, other than how his future will look like. The more heartwarming possibility would be for Laochen to take him in, but something tells me there’s a chance that Laochen may DIE in this show and that Yan Liang would be sent back to the institution anyway. But I think that at this point, we are pretty sure of who Yan Liang his, and I don’t think he’ll ever waver in his values.

- On the other hand, I do think that there is still something mysterious about Chaoyang and Pupu. Dongsheng has been trying to manipulate Chaoyang, and tried to cozy up to him by praising him and such. But finding about Xu Jing’s murder kind of reminded Chaoyang that he was talking to a freaking murderer. That being said, Chaoyang’s been building up that bravery recently, so I wouldn’t put it past him to do something reckless to protect the kids against him. It may be totally out of character for the Chaoyang at the beginning of the show, but Chaoyang’s been through a lot recently lol.

- As for Yue Pu, she hasn’t been doing much in the recent episodes. We did find out that Xinxin’s condition was very poor. If Xinxin dies, what then? Will Pupu willingly return to the institution? What will they do with the money though? They very well can’t just return it because the goodwill they have with Dongsheng has been lost now. The money to Dongsheng is second to getting rid of the pesky kids. If Dongsheng does come for them, I also would not put it past Yue Pu to do something drastic without hesitate to get rid of him, whereas I think Yan Liang and Chaoyang may waver just a bit.

- I’m trying to think of what Dongsheng’s new motivations are. Other than getting rid of the kids, what else does he want from life now that he no longer has a wife anymore? Does he want to try again for another family? He did see his wife more as a role-player (playing the role of “wife”) rather than someone he liked for her person.

- Man, I just really want the police on Dongsheng’s ass lol. Probably because I like the characters of Chen Guansheng and Ye Jun and I want to see them doing some more detective work lol.